


Délicatesse

by UnCon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, College Debt Woes, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, I know what it is, M/M, No they don't burn in the sun, UPDATE 2020-09-30: FIC being ENTIRELY redone, Vampires, Vampires have existed as long as humans, What's a drudge?, Will update tags and rating accordingly, it was inspired by real life events, it will not be the same as it was, jk, lot's of it eventually, sharp teeth, the struggle is real, they don't sparkle either
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 139,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22996348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnCon/pseuds/UnCon
Summary: Fresh out of school, with nothing but a piece of cardstock to his name, Gavin sat in his unfurnished apartment, the warmth in his pocket slowly growing to a roaring inferno as he inched closer to the end of his debt’s grace period. His computer was running on borrowed internet, and if he had to eat another peanut-butter and nothing sandwich one more time he was seriously going to hurl.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Original Chloe | RT600/North, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 355
Kudos: 488





	1. Rejection, Need, and the Ad (The Tale of Desperatu)

**Author's Note:**

> Though I shouldn't begin a project whilst working on another, I couldn't help myself. I'm loving this so far, please let me know what you think and excuse the mistakes, it is not Beta'd.

_Blood Donor Needed. Must be at least eighteen (18) years old and pass a background check and health/physical exam. Contract-based employment with a maximum limit of six (6) months. Base pay is $1,000.00/Week. Bonuses given if donor can accommodate emergency calls and/or odd hours. If interested, please contact 555-123-4567 or email_ [ _Richardson.A@vmail.com_ ](mailto:Richardson.A@vmail.com)

Gavin paused and read the job offer again, his eyes straining to uncover the catch. Sleep-deprived and scoffing with disbelief, he opened the link in a new tab, absentmindedly eyeing the other ten he had pending.

Fresh out of school, with nothing but a piece of cardstock to his name, Gavin sat in his unfurnished apartment, the warmth in his pocket slowly growing to a roaring inferno as he inched closer to the end of his debt’s grace period. His computer was running on borrowed internet, and if he had to eat another peanut-butter and nothing sandwich one more time he was seriously going to hurl.

His counsellors never warned him about this. They’d urged him to finish school, to keep his head above the water—that it’d work out in the end. But walking through the stage, shaking hands with a principal he’s never met—who had double the amount of Gavin’s student debt in his back pocket—didn’t bode well for his confidence.

He didn’t panic the first month (okay, maybe he did, but only for a moment). Like many of his peers, he took it easy, finally out of the Education System’s 16-year death grip. He partied, blowing through more money than he cared to recall, and drank his bodyweight twice over (never again, thank you very much). Then came the job hunting, jumping from interview to interview until he’d memorized all his talking points, practiced his 100-watt smile, and perfected his puppy-dog stare (just in case).

No, the panic didn’t set in until the rejection letters appeared, one-by-one, all brief but cutting just the same. _Sorry¸ we appreciate your interest but you’re not what we’re looking for._ Then why the fuck are you hiring?

Gavin was starting to think he’d spent $30,000 on a glorified nametag.

He looked around, noting the pretty little black spot above the kitchen growing larger every day because he was afraid the landlord would charge him extra for repairs. He lacked a proper bed—a proper everything. He had pins and needles shooting down his legs from sitting on the hard carpet floors.

The only thing to his name of value was his laptop, a gift from his over-worked mother. He treasured the piece of technology more than his phone (another gift from said mother). The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her, return home like some statistic. So, yes, the panic was in full swing, as he spent many hours cutting through the bullshit of minimum wage to find something worthy of his degree.

Gavin yawned, running a hand through his greasy brown locks. With a grimace he wondered when he’d last shampooed his scalp, when he could last afford shampoo. He shook his head, returning to the important task of finding sustainable income.

It may have been the hour or that beautiful quadruple-digit number, but Gavin’s thoughts kept drifting to the last tab—the one with the too-good-to-be-true offer. He did the math, groaning at how perfect it seemed. It’d help him put a dent in his debt for sure. He looked at the ad again, reading over the finer details.

Can’t be on any medication, prescription or otherwise. (Check)

Can’t have a medical condition that would put the donor at risk (e.g. anemia, sickle cell, hemophilia, etc.) (Check)

Must have a flexible schedule. (Double-check)

Must accommodate needles and sharp objects.

Gavin paused, his eyes narrowing as an embarrassingly late lightbulb lit up in his head. _There’s the catch._

Of course. 

An uncomfortable shiver ran through his spine, lifting the hairs at the back of his neck, forcing him to look around even as his back pressed hard into the wall. His fingers made their way to his scar, the one that sat across the bridge of his nose, establishing itself as his most defining feature. He remembered how his mother had cleaned the worst of the blood with a cloth, her hands trembling, her eyes shiny, knowing exactly how he'd been injured yet unable to reprimand the culprit. His nose had to be reset and the cut needed ten stitches—at least they numbed him up when they cast his arm.

The thing that struck him the most was the doctor, how he'd looked past his mother—who'd been sitting diligently by his side—and to his father for an explanation. Gavin recalled how he'd laughed it off dismissing it as nothing more than two brothers _—half_ , his mother had spat—roughhousing on a tree, his sharp teeth shining something sinister in the fluorescent lights. At least Gavin had thought so, the fear of the otherworldly instilled in him the moment his father opened his mouth. 

His mother had stared daggers into the back of his father's head, holding Gavin tighter as his father twisted the words to fit a kinder narrative, charming the doctor enough to qualm any further suspicion. 

Gavin closed the tab, remnants of fear and apathy sludging through his veins, a determined slug. So that was a resounding _no_ on that offer. Shame too, the money would have come in handy. 

* * *

The brunet adjusted his tie, cleared his throat and rehearsed his intro for the fifth time that morning. He looked nervous, each tick of his heart and beat of the clock had his pulse jumping. He’d waited half an hour before he ran into the bathroom, upchucking the peanut-butter-and-nothing sandwich he’d had for breakfast. He’d cursed at the state of his only suit, washing his mouth with soap, believing it’d taste better than his vomit.

He was wrong.

With a sting in his grey eyes and the smell of antiseptic in his nose, he clung to the sink, breathing deeply whilst reminding himself that this wasn’t the first, nor the last time he’d have to whore himself out to the interviewers.

Simply put, he had to suck it up.

Returning to the waiting room, he frowned at the body in his seat ticking away on their computer. Gavin, always one to avoid unnecessary human interactions, sat on the opposite side, fiddling with the papers of his padfolio. He had names and numbers of previous interviews, most of them obsolete to him now. He’d prayed on the third time being the charm, but after his third ‘third time’, he had to let go of idioms and sayings, keep looking, be optimistic, yadda, yadda, ya. 

He’d been so far in his head—he nearly missed his name.

* * *

“How’d it go?” Ms. Reed asked, squeezing her home phone between her head and shoulder as she juggled a spatula and frying pan.

Gavin sat on his balcony chair—a repurposed wicker basket—as he listened to his mother’s cooking, tasting his childhood on his tongue. He sometimes regretted leaving home, venturing to the big city of Detroit, wanting to clip his own wings and simultaneously fly. He tried not to wonder if things would’ve been different, if he’d had fared better going to his community college and taken a minimum-wage job as his mom had suggested. He’d had to prove a point though, and now he was paying for it.

“Oh, you know, I can never tell with these people,” Gavin said, chuckling for emphasis. He knew his mother could see right through it, read him in a way that wasn’t fair. She’d gotten better at letting him stew in his bullshit, and today wasn’t any different as she reassured him everything would be fine. And for a moment, he believed her.

“How are Kitty and Catie?” he asked, switching the topic to something less substantial.

“Oh, you mean my little troublemakers? You know I found Catie digging through the neighbour’s trash for their scraps. Like I don’t feed her high-grade cat food!” Ms. Reed said, sounding animated through the phone. Gavin grinned, shaking his head.

“For the last time, mom, _Purina_ s’not ‘high-grade.’”

“Whatever, Gavin, oh, and Kitty caught a rabbit, a _fucking_ rabbit! I didn’t even know we had rabbits in Michigan.” His mother’s voice was pitched high, her disbelief reaching the people below. Gavin laughed, seeing the calico, plain as day, with Mr. Whiskers between her teeth. “It’s not funny,” his mother reprimanded, though she couldn’t help chuckling.

“I gotta’ go, mom,” he said after a beat of silence.

“I know, dear, behave okay? Everything’ll work out,” she said again, sounding like she meant it, “don’t forget I love you.”

“Yeah, mom, love you too.”

Gavin watched his phone go black, then bright the next moment, an email notification the culprit. He hesitated to open it, knowing that getting a response so soon wasn’t a good sign. But waiting was taking years off his life, so he opened it, clicking his tongue when he read the header. It was just updating him on his pending applications.

Wonderful.

* * *

_Dear Mr. Gavin Reed,_

_We’re sorry to inform you that you have not qualified for your applied position. Though we appreciate your interest, we are looking for someone with a broader skillset. We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavours._

_Sincerely,_

_The Recruiter._

Gavin nearly chewed through his cheek as he read and reread the rejection email, mentally propelling himself back to square fucking one. How was anyone meant to get _anywhere_ if they couldn’t acquire experience from an entry-level job? Was he destined to suck up to corporate America until it threw him a bone—a cushy fucking desk-job that drained his soul faster than it filled his bank account?

He closed his laptop, banging his skull against the wall, looking at the ceiling with disdain—another beautiful patch of black spreading like a disease right above his sleeping space. His phone rumbled, startling him with a notification. He opened it, recognizing the snappy lettering of the job searching site. There was an update on one of his pending job offers, he read it, recognizing it as the one he'd rejected all those weeks ago. He was about to delete it from his search options, be rid of such an awful reminder.

Until he saw the change that is.

* * *

“Is it a mistake?” Gavin asked, biting his lower lip as he waited for the PA (of course he had a personal assistant) to quell his misgivings. He wasn’t an idiot, scammers existed long before the dawn of man and vampire, and they’d be there long after a mass extinction event. Gavin just wanted to make sure before he committed to anything. He could swallow his distaste for six months if it meant getting $2,000 a _week_.

“No mistake, sir, what you see on the ad is correct,” she said, her voice professionally polite.

“Why so much?” Gavin pushed, returning to an old habit of biting his fingernails, “I mean, is he like a pimp or something? Would I have to do weird shit with him?”

“No sir, Dr. Richardson knows what he’s asking is a bit unconventional. He’s making sure to compensate the donor accordingly,” if she was annoyed with Gavin, she hid it well, “there are no other requirements except those listed in the ad.”

“Is this legal?”

“Perfectly legal, sir.”

Which is honestly what anyone would say, regardless of the true legality. Gavin rubbed his temples, in complete disbelief of his next words. “I would like to apply.”

"Perfect, if you could do so electronically, you'll save yourself a few hours of paperwork.” Gavin kicked himself, feeling stupid for forgetting how exactly he’d learnt of this.

“I don’t, uh, I don’t have insurance, so a doctor’s visit would probably cost me—”

“No worries, sir, if you pass the initial background check, Dr. Richardson will pay for a complimentary physical,” the PA said, polite despite having interrupted Gavin, “will that be all?”

“Yeah, of course, thank you.” The click made him jump.

Gavin had never rushed so quickly to his computer, not even when he’d overslept and had an hour left for his English essay on rhetorical analysis. Yet, when he got there he was stuck. He didn’t even _know_ what he was getting himself into, for all promises of legality and only needing to meet the written expectations, the reality could be woefully different. What if this "Dr. Richardson" was collecting humans for some freaky experiment under the guise of "blood donations?" Could he really see himself letting a vampire drink his blood?

…2K/Week.

He could pay off his student debt and have enough money to spare, enough to live semi-comfortably in his apartment. He read through the ad again, doing some research before he signed half of the year away to this creature.

Dr. Ace Richardson—Ph.D., not MD—was a doctor in robotics, a mathematician who’d contributed many things to the technological advancements of the modern age. Gavin wouldn’t be typing on his computer if it weren’t for him. Somehow, that made Gavin angrier, knowing that a vampire was responsible for his small comforts. According to his birth certificate, he was 313 years old, still considered a young man by vampiric standards. Acid slid its way into Gavin’s throat, an uncomfortable sensation encapsulating his heart as he read that number again. This creature must look like a carcass by now, wrinkled and translucent—a sentient raisin.

Gavin had to swallow his tongue when he clicked on images, scrolling through two pages to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake. Jesus Christ, what a handsome fucking parasite. Neatly trimmed dark hair surrounded his temples, stopping shy of his ears. He had a sharp nose, placed between a well-defined jawline. He was beautiful, there was no denying it, but Gavin’s focus was robbed by his eyes, an icy blue that bordered on white. His father had had a similar effect in some of his photos. Gavin had looked it up once, discovering that vampires and hybrids shared an evolutionary advantage with cats—the _tapetum lucidum_ , the layer of tissue that reflected light back to the retina to increase one's night-vision. 

Pulling himself from this hole he’d started to dig, Gavin closed the tab, resuming his application. It was a standard fill-in-the-blank application, though little things caught his eye that made him think twice. What was his blood type? How the hell was he supposed to know that? He hovered over the complete button, weighing his options like an unbalanced scale. Six months, you'd be hard-pressed to conceive a viable baby in that time, much less pay off your student debts. And ultimately, that’s the reason he clicked the button, the looming, annoyingly standardized negative dollar signs encroaching on his freedom was forcing his hand.

Gavin went to bed with demons pecking at his skull. Nightmarish things with sharp fangs and bright eyes, looking both familiar and indistinct. One was drilling his eardrums, waking him with its insistence. He gasped, cold sweat running down his forehead, his phone the reason for the rude awakening. It was early enough that he had every right to be cranky, but not so early that other, more professional individuals wouldn’t be up. Clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes, he stifled a yawn when he answered, greeting the other person with his name.

“Good morning, Mr. Reed, it’s Chloe, Dr. Richardson’s PA,” the caller said, sounding the same, “we spoke last night.”

“Uh, yeah,” Gavin replied, feeling as eloquent as an empty sack of potatoes.

“Sorry to bother you so early, but I wanted to call you personally before anyone else,” Chloe began, sparking a bit of hope in the young man’s chest, “I couldn’t help but notice the urgent curiosity in your voice. I know this isn’t a traditional job in any sense, but the money can aid those in a pinch. I was wondering if you were still interested, you must pass your blood-screening and physical of course.”

“Of course,” Gavin echoed, feeling his feet leave the room without him, “I’m still interested,” he said, a toddler hanging from his neck. 

“Perfect, when would you like to schedule your doctor's appointment?”

“Whenever is fine, I’m not really busy…” Gavin admitted, his voice floating through the air, belonging to someone else. He heard her reply, heard himself set up a time and place, even wish her a happy rest of the day and hang up the phone, but Gavin was reeling from the callback, his brain unsure if this was a lucid dream or if he was finally catching a break.

It wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine, though. There was still the big catch: he’d be donating his blood to a _vampire_.

Six months. 2K/week. Six months. 2K/week.

It was his mantra as he headed into the bathroom to shower. A mantra that proved useful when you put it in perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of trying to find a job, I wrote this, most of what Gavin feels in the first chapter is from real-life desperation, and fuck it, if I found a gig as good as his I wouldn't hesitate either.


	2. Pins and Needles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the warm response! This story is pretty light-hearted and probably will get sappy towards the end--a far-cry from my other, more depressing fics. Thank you for reading, and please mind the mistakes.

_Ouch._

Okay, maybe it hadn’t been painful, but the butterfly-needle in the crook of his arm wasn’t _fun_ either. At least they only needed a few tubes of his blood—the last of the tests before he was accepted into the position. His heart skipped, both from apprehension and the nurse's cold hand steadying his arm.

Christ in heaven above.

He was still in his tighty-whiteys, an unfortunate excuse for a gown covering most of his shame. The clinic's sanitized room brought deep-buried memories of his childhood, of syringes and needles that looked far bigger in his mind than they might’ve been. He sighed, squeezing his fist to rid some of the numbness of the tourniquet.

“Almost there,” the nurse said, her tone on the edge of a warning as she re-stabilized his arm. He smiled, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but she finished before he could voice it, undoing the tourniquet with a light pull. She inverted each tube as she discarded the supplies, humming whilst labelling them.

Gavin sat still, his mind an unwelcome narrator, listing a million reasons why he should forgo the entire plan. I mean, really, is $48,000 worth it? (Yes, yes it fucking was.) Gavin took a few steadying breaths, wondering if removing that much blood was enough to put him into hemorrhagic shock. He'd been to the pediatrician after his incident, his mother had dragged him to it, but the doctor's office wasn't a foreign concept to him. Something about this though, about it being tied to a vampire, was troubling the settled dirt of his past. He half expected his father to step through that door and speak for him again, asserting himself as the dominant of the two. 

“Mr. Reed,” the nurse’s soft voice cut through his ensuing panic, forcing his mind to stop and listen, “I’ll be sending these off now, you may dress and exit to the waiting room," she continued, putting his little tubes of blood into a biohazard bag. "Before I go, do you have any questions?”

“Um, how long before we get the results?” Gavin asked, not really one to worry about these things, but he’d grown real tense as of late. The emails about his student loan repayment deadline were a noose tightening in uncomfortable increments. He tried to think of the last four years, of anything he might have done or taken that could interfere with a clean slate, but he was drawing a blank, unsure what counted and didn’t.

“These things are quick, about an hour or so,” the nurse reassured, “afterwards, if everything is within parameters, we’ll forward the results to Dr. Richardson’s estate—they’ll take care of the rest.”

“Have you done this before?” Gavin asked, morbid curiosity getting the better of him. When she cocked her head, confusion riddling her expression, Gavin elaborated—his cheeks burning bright. “You know, sent blood results to a vampire.” Jesus, it sounded even stupider out loud.

The nurse gave him a soft, professional smile. It’s only then, as the light hit her teeth, that Gavin noticed how her canines ended in a fine point. A shiver ran through him, his blood freezing in his veins, arresting his limbs to the examination table. Why did they all smile like that?

“It is part of my job, yes,” she answered, the humour not escaping her.

Gavin nodded, unable to move air through his throat until she left. He held his chest as his breaths came and went, fast and uncontrolled. It took him a moment to calm down, a dissenting voice speaking above the rush of blood in his ears. He ignored it, taking his time putting on his clothes and lacing his boots, failing to tie the knot with his shaky fingers. Gavin forced himself to stand still, recognizing that he wasn't eight years old anymore, that his childhood trauma had nothing to do with what he was doing now. If anything, this could be like exposure therapy, and how quaint, he was getting paid for it too. 

Desperation made him push his instincts to the wayside, disregarding the gut feeling that quivered at the thought of _too_ sharp teeth. 

Gavin sighed and exited to the waiting room, pausing to look at the other patrons. He wondered if any of them were here for the same reason and if any held similar reservations. Shaking his head, he left, rummaging through his pockets for his keys.

“Mr. Reed,” a voice called, startling him. He looked around, wondering if debt collectors were tracking him, and dismissed the thought (he was still in his grace period, goddammit) his eyes landing on a blonde in a navy-blue pencil dress. She had her hand raised, the other holding a parasol. She stood beside a black SUV—the windows blacked out past their legal limit. Well, human legal limits, who's to say vampires didn't carry special privileges? 

“Yes?” Gavin answered, not used to being referred to by his last name.

“How was your doctor’s visit?” she asked, professionalism written on every line of her fair face.

“It was okay?” Gavin asked, feeling awkward as he spoke above a normal volume instead of moving closer. His eyes wandered to the car, hoping he was subtle as he looked through the glass, trying to see if anyone else was inside.

“Perfect,” she said, the first to shorten the distance. She extended a hand, her skin glowing in the sun, “I’m Chloe, we spoke over the phone.”

Gavin took it, surprised by the warmth of it. “I figured,” he answered, letting her go, “do you normally wait on all potential employees?” he asked, not one to ever keep his curiosity in check.

“Only the promising ones,” she replied, her eyes crinkling with her grin. Her teeth looked normal, but he’d been fooled before. “Well, I’ll let you be, have a wonderful day, Mr. Reed,” she continued, turning on a heel.

“Gavin is fine,” he amended as she left.

Now that he was in relative solitude, he took a closer look at the car, squinting through the shadows, but alas, the sun was glaring in his eyes, an ironic deterrent. Nevertheless, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched whilst he returned to his own car—maybe it was the nerves.

Maybe.

* * *

To say he was anxious would be an understatement, but Gavin was too proud to admit that biting his nails was a sign of stress. He paced in his apartment, trying in vain to calm his hammering heart. Eating something had been a mistake, his stomach revolting with each passing second.

He hadn’t felt like this since finals.

A humiliating yelp escaped him when his phone rang, his hands shaking as he went for it. “Hello?” his voice gave way to a crack, furthering his embarrassment. He cleared it and tried again, “Hello.”

“Hi honey, it’s mom," Ms. Reed said, bringing with her a wave of relief, "how are you?” she asked, having the ability to make you the centre of her attention whilst you answered. Gavin relaxed—an automatic reflex to hearing her voice. These last few days had him missing her something terrible, the demons of his past causing havoc in the tentative quiet of his thoughts. His mother had been his alibi and friend from the beginning, she'd moved mountains to see to his happiness and let them fall over his head when he got out hand. 

“I’m not gonna lie, things could be a little better,” he admitted, sitting backwards in the apartment's only chair. He’d learned from a young age that keeping things from his mom made situations worse.

“Job hunting got you down?” she asked, always blunt.

“How’d you guess?” he asked, trying not to be too sarcastic.

“Trust me when I say I understand the struggle,” she replied, ignoring his tone. “I’m not gonna’ tell you that everything will be okay, because it may not be—for a long time,” she continued. Gavin recognized that voice, she reserved it for her words of wisdom. In his teens, he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but now, he listened, hoping her experience would aid him in his time of need. “But everything has a way of working itself out in the end, and I know Gavin, I know you hate it when I say this, but you can always come back, at least until you get on your feet.”

“I know mom, I promise I will if I can’t find something soon,” he replied, feeling his pride take a hit. There was that looming statistic again, a scholastic failure that wasn't entirely his fault. It wasn't like he hadn't tried, he had a diploma to prove it, doing his best to earn it with the resources he'd managed to procure through his four years. He could have given up, saved himself the trouble and enrolled into a vocation, joined the army, trained to be a fireman or a police officer. But no, he'd taken the educational route, because it's what he'd been told he _had_ to do. 

"I'm holding you to that,” she said, her finger-wag audible, “try not to think too hard?” she asked, more for his sake than anything.

Gavin shooed her worries away, ending the call after they said their farewell. He hung his head, feeling the wood of the chair’s frame dig into his forehead. He hoped things worked themselves out in the end, but not knowing bothered him. He’d never mastered the art of letting things go.

He was less jumpy when his phone rang again, but he still startled, clutching the vibrating object to look at the number. Though he hadn’t saved it to his phone, he recognized it, answering after he’d cleared his throat.

“Gavin speaking.”

“Hello, Mr. Reed,” Chloe began, he wouldn’t begrudge her for addressing him as such, maybe it was part of her programming, “I’m calling you to say congratulations, you’ve passed all background checks and examinations. All I need from you is a verbal confirmation that you still accept the offer as listed in the contract.”

“Yes, I accept,” Gavin said, leaving no room for hesitation, his mouth working faster than his brain.

“Congratulations again,” Chloe repeated, a hint of relief in her voice, “now we can talk about financial arrangements and your schedule. If you’re not terribly busy, we could arrange something today, or wait until tomorrow. Your choice.”

“So many options,” Gavin joked, feeling breathless, “I’m not busy, we could do it today.”

“Wonderful,” Chloe replied, again sounding grateful. Gavin was starting to wonder if she’d been looking for someone for a while. How often did vampires need to feed? How long could they go without? She proceeded to give him the address to Dr. Richardson’s mansion and instructions on how to enter the gates.

Gavin was floored as he hung up the phone, a euphoria unlike no other flooding his veins. He did a little dance, wanting to call his mother immediately, but he restrained himself, knowing nothing was set in stone until he signed the contract. Six months from now seemed like tomorrow. He could do this.

He could _totally_ do this.

* * *

He can’t do this.

Gavin sat across Chloe as she went through the details of his new position.

The ride had been a long one, taking nearly an hour with the congested roads, yet it'd passed in a blur, giving him neither the chance to overthink things or the opportunity to reconsider his acceptance. As he neared the estate, he noticed how the houses grew thinner, replaced by the trees, a layout that would’ve looked lovely if it didn’t house a monster at the end of it. He’d had to crane his neck to look at the mansion whilst waiting for the gate to respond to his input. It was an old home, yes, but well-kept. The lawn trimmed to perfection, the topiary innumerable and abstract—the definition of the colour green.

Gavin parked beside the only familiar car in the lot, keeping a wide berth from the other more antique (see: _expensive_ ) automobiles. His brows brushed his hairline, ticking off models he'd only seen on the television, in those old movies his mother swore were good if you gave them a chance. It put his old bucket of bolts to shame, severely out of place on the decorative pavement. 

Ignoring the urge to touch one, he'd made his way towards the massive door, unsure if he should knock, or call—lucky for him, he didn’t have to wait long. Chloe opened the door with a warm smile, her navy dress complimenting her blue eyes. She was a beautiful, seemingly _human_ woman, no sharpness nor darkness hidden in the pearly whites of her teeth. Chloe didn't make an effort to move away from the sun hitting her skin, catching her flaxen ponytail with every swish. It helped ease Gavin's unconscious discomfort, even if just a little. 

“Welcome, Gavin,” she said, sidestepping to grant him access to the mansion.

The house was much bigger on the inside, overwhelming the senses with its high ceilings and its dark oak floors. In the centre stood the grand staircase, branching in opposite directions to form its wings. There were ornate touches to everything, no pillar stood without delicate carvings etched into its surface. It bled meticulousness, attention to detail, revealed the access to time and effort not often afforded to those less fortunate. Discomfiture made him shuffle his feet, knowing he stuck out worse than a second thumb. 

“You’ll get a tour after we sign all the papers,” Chloe promised, misreading his anxiety for eagerness. She led him to the left-wing, the click of her heels dampened by the massive runner stretching the entire length of the hallway. The wall on the left was nothing but windows, slightly weathered by their age, the right held paintings of portraits and landscapes. They seemed to be original prints, the paint slightly faded and chipped if you cared to look. 

Chloe opened the door to the dining room, the mahogany table a colossal masterpiece able to comfortably seat thirty people. There were modern touches, however, the lights were electric, and some commodities littered the area. It made Gavin wonder if Dr. Richardson had been a nobleman at some point. Maybe he’d had a gigantic family or hosted parties in his youth, why else would he need so much space?

Gavin looked around, hoping to catch evidence of anyone living here, but—save for the papers laid out in front of him—the rest of the house seemed to be frozen in time, a capsule, a museum you'd visit to get a glimpse of how life _used_ to be. It didn't feel like a home, didn't hold the same disordinances and quirks. It was warm in colour alone. 

Chloe pulled out a chair for Gavin and took one opposite of him, shuffling through his contract, double-checking her work. She began talking, legalese going over his head, reminding him of learning English all over again. He nodded and pretended to understand, but as the papers were pushed his way and his eyes guided to the dotted line, he hesitated. There was a lot to digest, and the things he understood—like accidental hemorrhage and indentured servitude—were exactly the reason he’d disregarded the offer in the first place.

“Could you give me a second?” Gavin asked, putting down the pen. Her smile was kind with understanding, nodding once and leaving the dining room to give him some privacy. Gavin let go of his breath, certain every entity in the universe could hear his heartbeat. This was insane, it just dawned on him what he was about to do. He could _not_ do this, it was _insane_ , and even if it _was_ legal, seemed highly suspicious. He'd been warned about signing contracts without reading through the text first, but his eyes crossed at the prospect of working through the tiny print, and the TL;DR version was vague enough to absolve anyone from legal consequence. 

“God, give me strength,” he whispered, feeling like a sacrilegious hypocrite. There were no Gods, only him and this pen.

Six months now looked like six years. What would he be after this? He should’ve done more research.

Fuck.

“Yes, he's here,” Gavin heard Chloe say, her voice muffled as it came through the closed door. She paused, then heaved a sigh. “Yes, I know.” He heard her shuffle and push open the door, her smile apologetic. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied, “are you?”

“Of course,” she replied with a nod, “please take your time, I know this can seem daunting, but know that this contract, though legally binding doesn’t mean you’ve sold your soul to the devil. If you’re uncomfortable with some of the aspects of your job, we can try to work around them,” she said as she walked closer. Pointing a delicate finger to the one he’d unconsciously underlined, she smiled shaking her head. “Most people get stumped on this one too,” she admitted.

“Yeah, it has 'fangs' as a header,” Gavin replied as if it weren’t obvious.

“As I said, we can work around it. If it would make you more comfortable, we could take blood from you in increments, at least for the first week,” she reassured, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“Why doesn’t he just do that normally?” Gavin asked, already feeling the bottom of his stomach give out at the mention of blood draws.

“It’s an option, yes, but not a viable one. Donated blood is precious, both humans and vampires benefit from it, and as such, it is a rare resource. If every vampire were to feed from a blood bank then there wouldn’t be enough for anyone,” she educated, “a singular volunteer is far more affordable, not to mention, there are chemical processes one undergoes to accommodate a vampire’s needs.”

“Drudgery,” Gavin spat, remembering _something_ from school.

“Not quite,” Chloe replied, unsurprised the term had made it into their conversation, “becoming a drudge takes more than few feeds, it is a purposeful and intimate thing—not to mention illegal without explicit consent.” She'd refrained from including it in the contract, having navigated a mine-field to keep this process as legal as possible whilst being equally transparent. 

Gavin huffed, still playing with the pen in his hand.

“You don’t have to sign anything, Mr. Reed, but if those were the only things that worried you, I can assure you that you’re not the first to voice those concerns and won’t be the last,” she said, her polite professionalism replacing the warmth from a moment ago.

 _Fuck me_ , Gavin thought, with every ounce of his soul. He truly hoped the money was worth sacrificing a bit of himself. 

If his signature was a bit shaky, she didn’t mention it.

“Thank you, Gavin, you’re doing us a great service,” Chloe said, collecting the last of the papers into a folder. “I’ll be back with Dr. Richardson, you’ll have a formal introduction, a tour, and then we’ll discuss your schedule for the next six months.”

“Yippee,” Gavin said, less than enthused.

Chloe—to his surprise—laughed, giving him a little pat on the shoulder before she left. The immediate solitude gave him a moment to think, to overreact, to actualize his worst fears and then work tirelessly to kill them. It was useless of course, those terrors had imprinted on him, claiming his childhood as their home, growing with him as he grew, evolving to the anxiety pooling deep in his abdomen. 

His ears perked at the sound of footsteps, and he stood just as Chloe opened the door. Gavin wasn’t sure what he was expecting—some larger than life figure with the cadence of Dracula? A starved cretin? Whatever it was, it wasn’t what walked through the door, and dammit, those pictures didn’t do Dr. A. Richardson any justice. Chloe’s smile was bright as she introduced them, a familiar fondness in her voice whilst saying the doctor’s name. It reminded Gavin that he’d never thought to ask exactly _what_ Chloe was to the vampire.

“Pleasure to meet you, Gavin,” the other said, stretching out his pale hand.

 _I’m sure it is_ , Gavin thought as he nodded and took it, shivering at the cool touch. “Likewise,” he murmured, averting his stare. Old wives' tales of hypnotization made their unceremonious appearance into his thoughts, and at that moment, he was unable—or unwilling—to separate fact from fiction. 

“Chloe told me you had some concerns,” Dr. Richardson began, sounding as professional as Chloe had when she'd broached the subject, “we can discuss them now if you'd like,” the vampire continued, rounding the table to sit on the opposite side, extending the invitation to both Chloe and Gavin.

“Perfect,” Chloe agreed, clapping once. "I have a feeling this might take longer than a friendly minute," she said, a lightness in her step as she walked past the end of the table and continued through a set of French doors. She wasn't gone longer than a few minutes, returning with a pitcher of ice-cold water, a few glasses, and a plate of little cakes, setting them down between her space and Gavin. Reclaiming her seat at the head of the table, she distributed the cakes and poured Gavin a glassful of water, doing the same for herself. She took a bite of her cake, her smile encouraging a healthy discussion. Boundaries were important, one needed to know where the line in the sand was drawn as to not overstep it. 

Gavin picked at the cake, unsure if he was unwilling to partake because of his lack of appetite or his missing faith in humanity. It felt rude not to at least drink the water, so he took a sip if only to placate hard-learned manners. "I've never had a job before," he began, still avoiding Dr. Richardson's gaze, "I'm only doing this to help pay for my college debt, so I'm sorry if I don't seem excited about this," he continued, taking another sip. 

"That's a very common theme among the young ones," Chloe nodded, her smile thinning to display her concern, "and we don't expect your excitement, Gavin, no one wakes up and decides to be a blood donor overnight," she continued, finishing her last piece of cake, taking another from the platter. 

Her words managed to get a chuckle from him, his throat growing itchy under her thoughtfulness. "I guess they don't," Gavin agreed, taking the plunge and diving into the cake, the dessert melting on his tongue the minute it left the spoon. It was soft, sweet, and light—he'd bet it was homemade too, the grainy texture of box-cake absent in its taste. 

"I have a packet I was gonna give you after our tour," Chloe said, procuring said packet from the briefcase at her side, "but I don't see any harm in going over it now," Chloe said, flipping to the first page on self-care. 

"There's homework?" Gavin asked, trying to restrain the groan that came with the idea of doing extracurricular work for his job.

"If you don't want to pass out after your first feed, yes, there is," Chloe said, her smile gentle but her tone no-nonsense, "the first day is always the most overwhelming, he's getting to know you, you're getting to know him. It requires a level of trust that isn't so easily achieved nowadays," she continued, her eyes briefly touching on Dr. Richardson. The vampire seemed comfortable letting Chloe handle the conversation, it almost made Gavin ignore his presence. 

"Will you be there for the first time?" Gavin asked, unable to help the quick flit of his gaze in the vampire's direction. _Trust_ , that might be difficult considering his history with the only vampire he'd known on a personal level.

"Yes," Chloe reassured, "though I won't be watching. It's not something you do with company, even donation centres have separate rooms for their guests," Chloe continued, pushing the pamphlet in Gavin's direction, having underlined the important things to memorize. "The main thing is to drink lots of water, get plenty of rest, and eat more food than you would normally," she summarized, pointing with her finger the rationale behind each instruction. It wasn't until it was in Gavin's hands that he realized how thick the pamphlet was, its denseness already turning him off from perusing further than what he'd been introduced to. He nodded, if only to show he was listening, and finished his last piece of cake. 

There was something else he wanted to ask, but with the vampire there, he found his voice failing him, feeling rude to broach the subject of how one ate. He'd never seen his father bite his mother when they were together, and other than a few kitten nips from Kitty and Catie, he himself had never been bitten. It felt like a foreign concept, to feed someone from his body. 

"Ace, dear, could you put these away for us?" Chloe asked, pushing their empty plates in the vampire's direction. Gavin was surprised not only by her request but by the fact that Dr. Richardson obliged, nonplussed about being commanded by an employee. When he was out of earshot, Chloe looked at Gavin, her eyes blanketed in wisdom. "You've yet to ask about his fangs," Chloe observed, reading Gavin like a book. 

"Wouldn't he get offended?" Gavin asked, trying to keep a good impression for at least the first paycheck. 

"He's done this a few hundred times," Chloe revealed, sipping the rest of her water, "I think he's more curious that you haven't asked him already."

The vampire returned, forgoing his seat for the door. "Would you like to continue talking with our tour?" he asked, something like learned civility in his tone. Gavin wasn't sure if he was aiming the question at him or at Chloe, but he followed her lead when she stood, lagging a step behind. 

Chloe walked the hallway with the confidence and familiarity of someone who knew these halls like the back of her hand. Dr. Richardson matched her step, listening with a detached countenance. Gavin caught his profile once or twice when he turned his head just so, never once meeting Gavin's eyes or attempting to catch him in the act of staring. It made it hard to decide if his aloofness was an act or if he'd been through this song-and-dance so many times it'd began to bore him. Chloe slipped into tour-guide mode, describing the little intricacies that made the house special, pointing out antiques, collectibles, one-of-a-kinds. They paused by the grand staircase, her hand touching the swirled end of the handrail. She described its creation with punctuating detail, almost as if she'd built it herself.

"That at least concludes the rooms you'll be passing," Chloe said, pointing to two doors before they entered the right-wing's hallway, "my office, Ace's office," she said, labelling the nondescript rooms, "my door will always be open if I'm in my office."

Gavin nodded, grateful for the information even if he had no intention of using it. They continued their journey down the right-wing, the hallway similar to the left side, its large windows showcasing the setting sun. A cold dread drove through Gavin, an archaic panic passed down from his cavemen ancestors. If the vampire noticed it, he didn’t mention it.

“And here we are,” Chloe said, gesturing to the room—a recreational space with a movie theatre tucked into the centre, “this is where you'll be spending most of your time. I've repurposed it to include modern creature comforts,” Chloe said gesturing to the television, couch, and bookcases that climbed a few stories. "I've dubbed it the feeding room, but Ace tells me that can be a little overwhelming to hear for the first time," she joked, her smile teasing, yet devoid of any bite. 

Gavin mirrored her smile with a grimace, the pit of his stomach giving way at the mention of feeding. It was getting harder to ignore what his job was about to become when it kept being brought back up. Chloe did a half-turn, walking into a small closet room and exiting with a curtain divider and a large cart. "More creature comforts," she reassured after she noted Gavin's sudden interest in picking the lint off his shirt. "Bites can be _uncomfortable_ the first few times, and my job is to ease that discomfort—wouldn't do us any good if our employees don't want to return to work."

Gavin's chuckle was strained, thinking it best to let Chloe continue her spiel. 

"This is a numbing agent," Chloe began, pulling out a glass jar filled with pink cream, "we scrub it on the area of impact before each feed, it reduces the anxiety of being bitten," she said, demonstrating on her own skin to show it was harmless. It smelt of roses with an undertone of chemicals, not entirely unpleasant if he had to be honest. She returned the jar to the cart, pulling the curtain partition into view. "Ignorance has also been proven to ease the discomfort, though some have noted heightened anxiety at shielding the act," she said, demonstrating how to use it by shoving her arm through the split seam in the middle. "It's your choice if you decide to use one, both, or neither," she concluded, returning her instruments to the closet. 

Gavin sighed, shaking his head. It was only for six months, he had to keep reminding himself that. "You've thought of everything," Gavin said, as much of a compliment as he could muster. 

"We've had many trial and errors," Chloe said, bowing her head, "if you at any time decided to terminate your contract, we only ask that you give us about a week's notice," she continued passing her eye to the vampire once more, "it's much harder to find a replacement with any less time."

"Of course." That'd be the polite thing to do, anyway. 

"Well, Gavin, thank you for accepting," Chloe said, "on page five you'll find your schedule and how it's broken down for every week, we pay by check, so don't worry about setting up an account at this time," she continued, holding out her hand for Gavin to shake, "we look forward to seeing you early tomorrow morning!" 

The smile she gave him was blinding, forcing him to reciprocate with something similar. The vampire had disappeared somewhere between explaining the partition and his wages, Gavin could only say he was thankful he didn't have to be subject to an awkward goodbye. 


	3. Knight Looks at Rook, Checkmate

The mansion hadn't lost any of its splendour, if anything, anticipation made it grander than before. Its towers and turrets reached high above him, its steeply pitched gables ending in a fine point. Despite its age, the mansion looked timeless and desperately pompous. He wasn’t brave enough to take his car to the back, to see what else the estate had to offer. Considering he was running late, the last thing he wanted to be caught doing was trespassing. He couldn’t blame his time management skills on the homework—he’d taken one look at the packet and tossed it aside, opting instead to window shop on the net.

Gavin steadied his hands on the steering wheel, parking many feet away, fearing the paint giving way to the rust beneath his car’s doors would rub off on the doctor's priceless antiques. He reached the front in a hurry, feeling out of breath before he ascended the stairs. He fished for his phone, running through the contacts for Chloe’s number. 

“You’re late,” Dr. Richardson said, opening the door and interrupting Gavin before he pressed the call button. His tone had been pitched in the neutral, but already one could tell he was displeased with the inconvenience. Gavin got the impression that he wouldn't outright say so, but he'd been around the block enough to know quiet disappointment when he saw it. He'd known it when his teachers graded his papers, saw it in his mother when he'd run off with some boy for the weekend without telling her.

He bristled at the judgement, but played the part of the humbled employee, even if bowing his head felt like declaring defeat. “I know, I’m sorry, I overslept."

Dr. Richardson said nothing for a moment, a few tense muscles on his face jumping from where he'd clenched and unclenched his jaw. “No bother," the vampire relented, stepping aside so his donor could enter, "we won't speak of it further unless it happens again." Gavin could only say thanks, even as the urge to roll his eyes proved to be difficult to control. 

"Gavin, just in time, " Chloe greeted, giving him a small wave. There was a flicker of annoyance that passed through the vampire's eyes, imperceptible to those standing behind him. Chloe's smile grew to a grin, her good humour never curtailed by his reaction. "Will you join me for lunch after your session?" she asked, her tone gentle in its persuasion. 

"I'm not—" 

"You're also getting paid after, so it'd be in your best interest to accept," Chloe teased, her blue eyes like deviant twinkles in an otherwise dark sky. 

Gavin nodded, deducing with only minimal input that Chloe was the head of the household. The vampire's name might be on everything, but it was Chloe who ran it like a smooth operator. He tried to be discreet whilst he looked between them, tried to discern any familial ties—or marital ones. Yet, apart from Chloe's ring and Dr. Richardson's lack thereof, there was nothing obvious tying them together. 

"Are we ready?" Chloe asked, clasping her hands behind her back. There was something very authentic in the way she held herself as if her spine had been designed to hold itself rigid without bending to the natural tug of Earth's gravitational pull. It made Gavin insecure about his own posture, slouching as he was in his leather jacket. 

"I guess," Gavin said rubbing the back of his neck—a reflex. He stopped, a sliver of panic curling in his stomach. Was he allowed to do that, or would it seem like an invitation, like tenderizing the meat before cooking it? His eyes snapped to the vampire out of their own volition, gauging his reaction, trying to catch him staring. But Dr. Richardson wasn't looking at him, he had his eyes trained forward either ignoring them or finding the woodgrain particularly fascinating. Gavin was stuck between emotions, the vampire's disregard for his person just as irritating as the idea of him wanting nothing more than to eat him.

This may have driven his decision to step around the doctor, side-eyeing him in the processes of standing by Chloe. "I thought it was a typo when it said it'd take four hours," Gavin admitted, following her into the hallway. The sun’s rays crept up the sky, the orange bleeding into the darkness.

“No typo,” Chloe said, “unfortunately, the first time is more for you than it is for our good doctor here,” she explained, her smile apologetic. “Venom is a very potent vasodilator, if you were to introduce it all at once, you might pass out or go into hypotensive shock—hence the importance of drinking plenty of water and eating well before coming.”

Gavin understood about half those words, nodding despite having passed health class with a whopping 70%.

Chloe cocked her head then shook it, her smile reminded him of his mom’s, how she’d look at him at times when he did something brainless. “We go slow so you don’t die.”

“Thank you,” Gavin replied, clipped.

“Chloe,” Dr. Richardson interrupted, something like coiled restraint in his voice, “will you please get the supplies and stop scaring our employee?”

“I’m not scaring him,” Chloe said in unison with Gavin’s, “I’m not scared.” The vampire looked between them, then through them, the closest thing to an eye roll he’d let himself achieve in public.

Chloe still relented, turning to the closet for the partition and numbing agent. Gavin busied himself by removing his jacket, hesitating at his shirt. “Do I have to take this off too?” he asked, looking at Chloe like a lifeline—she seemed to be the least likely to judge him.

“Only if you want,” she said, holding a chuckle behind her hand, cracking when she looked at Ace, who’d broken his vows of stoicism to raise an eyebrow. “Gavin, we only need access to your wrist, anything else is unnecessary.”

“Oh,” was the only thing Gavin could bring himself to say as his cheeks darkened, deep and embarrassed whilst he lowered himself to one side of the couch, feeling all sorts of stupid.

“Here,” Chloe said, holding her hand out for his arm. She pressed to fingers to the outer crook of his wrist, feeling for his pulse. “He’ll bite here,” she began, gently digging her nails to replicate the sensation, “there’ll be a mark, like a bruise, that should calm in a few minutes, maybe even an hour, and disappear in a few days,” she continued, circling the area with the pad of her pointer finger. It sent a strange shiver up his arm, raising gooseflesh in its wake. “Understood?”

“Y-yeah,” Gavin replied, taking back his arm when she released it.

“Chloe,” the vampire called again, reprimand clear as day in his tone, in the downtick of his lips, the hardest line of his jaw. “I’m perfectly capable of explaining this myself,” he said, “I don’t know why you always insist on doing it.” The way he said that last part like he was a young kid trying to prove his ability, had rusted cogs turning in Gavin’s head.

“I _insist_ because you’re too serious,” Chloe said as if it were obvious, “intimidating, even if you don’t mean to be.” Her voice was soft as if it’d help the sting of her words.

The vampire pressed his lips in a thin line, saying nothing more as he walked to the covered window. His shoulders were tight beneath his three-piece suit, forming nasty little knots that expanded on the existing ones.

“Gavin, if you will?” Chloe said, motioning to a towel sitting on the cart, the numbing agent opened and ready for his wrist.

The donor’s eyes had unwittingly travelled to the doctor, so Chloe’s call was startling. He broke his neck looking at her, feeling like a deer in the headlights as he tried to recall what she’d asked. Her hands were motioning to the pink cream, its chemical aroma tickling his nose before the rose crept to meet him.

“I think I’m gonna skip that for now,” Gavin said, nearly retracting his response when Chloe’s blonde brows met her hairline.

There was an air of uncertainty in the way she held her hand in the glass jar, mixing spoon submerged in the soft cream. “Are you sure?” she asked, “It’s not comfortable.”

“I’ll be okay,” Gavin reassured, his smile plastic, “I just want to get this over with, anything that takes longer is inconvenient.”

Chloe sighed—feeling familiarity be born from Gavin’s stubbornness. “You don’t have to be brave, Gavin, it’s only the three of us in here,” Chloe said, packing away her supplies, “well, two.” She stood by the door when she said it, one side of her mouth quirked upwards. “I’ll be in my office if you need me, don’t forget to join me for lunch when you’re done.”

“Will do,” Gavin said, giving her a thumbs up. He waited until Chloe was out of earshot before he rose from the couch, making a beeline to the vampire’s side whilst keeping a tasteful distance between them. The sun had climbed to the top of the sky, straining its rays against the window. Dr. Richardson had his hand on the glass, almost as if playing with fire.

“I thought vampires couldn’t stand the sun,” Gavin said looking at the contradiction in front of him.

Ace bristled, his eyes narrowing at the observation. “The glass is coated with a UV repellant,” he said, his hand falling from the warmth. It grew cold in an instant, reminding him that’d been far too long since his last feed. The blood in his veins was turning to sludge, his heartbeat barely palpable in his chest. It’d be worrying if he weren’t used to it already. “Please reconsider using the numbing agent—my fangs are sharp.”

“I promise I won’t cry,” Gavin said, his attempts at humour lost on the vampire. He sighed, his face falling into a grim expression. His mother never had a choice when his father bit her, she’d bear the superficial marks raised a hairsbreadth above the skin, pink and tender, for days until they faded. She made no attempt to hide them, but she also didn’t explain them.

Gavin wanted his chance to understand.

“Then I promise to be gentle,” the vampire said when his—admittedly lacking—persuasive measures fell to the wayside.

“As gentle as one can be when shoving two needles into another’s skin,” Gavin mumbled in disbelief.

“Four, actually.”

“ _Four_.”

Gavin tried not to think about it, but his pulse was pressing its quick insistence against his wrist, marring it like a red flag. He tried to ignore it, tried to purge his mind of feeling as he sensed the vampire approach from his left, saw him descend into the chair with the learned grace of a predator.

There was no reason for his heart to skip as it did, but the mishap sent the muscle into even further of a disarray, betraying the nonchalance with which he held out his arm.

Dr. Richardson had good enough graces to keep his sensitive hearing to himself and accepted the arm with a deep nod. Though they were of different social classes—hell, different species—this was still something that required mutual understanding and respect. If nothing more, he could appreciate Gavin’s sacrifice.

Gavin held still, curtailing his squirming with a determined grind of his teeth. The vampire had his forearm trapped between two pale fists, straightening, and exposing the milky flesh of his underarm, pulling gently at his hand until it bent backwards, his wrist now on full display. Gavin swore his heart stopped when the vampire nudged him with his nose, his mouth opening enough to accommodate the extension of his fangs.

As if in the middle of a train wreck, Gavin couldn’t look away, his eyes glued to the creature getting ready to feast on him. Ace made the mistake of meeting his donor’s eyes, snapping his mouth shut out of regard for his dignity.

“You don’t have to look so scared,” the vampire grumbled, dropping the arm. It took a few hard massages to his gums, but he managed to coax his fangs back into their recess.

“I’m—” But Gavin didn’t have the mental fortitude to lie, and he sure as hell couldn’t bring himself to admit he’d been frightened. He was stuck between wills, finding silence to be his ally.

“I can call Chloe, tell her to compensate you for your troubles, and find someone else,” Dr. Richardson said, his dismissal plain as day, “no need to force yourself to do something you don’t want to.”

“I’m not—” Gavin grit his teeth, hating how his voice cracked when he was nervous, “I’m not scared.”

The vampire looked at him, frustrated amusement curling his lip into a sneer, “Of course, I wouldn’t want to insult your fragile humanity.”

“Listen—” Gavin snapped before his employer narrowed his eyes, softening his tone for the sake of his paycheck— “Dr. Richardson, I need this, and until I can find suitable employment, I’m _going_ to need this for the next six months, so please,” Gavin reminded, extending his arm like a peace offering, “continue.”

The vampire cocked his head, an eyebrow ticking upwards at the admission and request. They both had something to offer the other, valuable in its own regard. He could choose to deny them both or continue with the transaction, burying the hatchet and this discussion.

“You can call me Ace,” the vampire began, taking Gavin’s arm, “only my students call me Dr. Richardson.” He avoided his donor’s gaze as he lowered his mouth for a second bite, making quick work of burying his fangs into the crook of the wrist, anchoring his bottom fangs so the top could descend further into the artery, swallowing with each heartbeat.

Gavin was unsure if he should nod in the affirmative or even acknowledge their first name basis. Speaking seemed like a foreign notion, however, when he was bit, those four points of pressure feeling like a clamp on his wrist. It stung something fierce for a moment before the sensation was whisked away by the slight numbness one felt when they’d fallen asleep on their limb. His fingers tingled, so he flexed them, hoping Ace wouldn’t notice.

“Do I really have to sit like this for four hours?” Gavin asked, his arm fatiguing with the effort to keep it suspended.

Ace looked up, a light film over his blown pupils. They constricted in an instant, an annoyed glint crossing his eyes. He stopped feeding for a moment reaching behind himself for the throw pillow, shoving it beneath Gavin’s arm until it was at a satisfying angle. Before resuming, he motioned to the television remote sitting pretty on the coffee table.

Gavin reached for it, the numbness in his arm more manageable this time. The TV was full to the brim with all modern conveniences the 21st century had to offer, however, he found himself wanting to watch none of it. He was hyper-focusing on the sensation just below his fingers, the slight shift and deep puncture of the vampire’s fangs. It made his heart stutter at the realization that one bad move could cost him his hand.

The knowledge sobered him, sat with him even as he tried to ignore it. For what it was worth, he had to trust the doctor to know what he was doing, and if Gavin had to be honest, he’d never heard of humans losing a limb through vampiric feeds. He was more likely to lose a finger chopping onions.

Snorting at the thought, he continued channel surfing stopping on some repeat thriller from his teenage years. It ate about two hours of their time, the credits rolling just as Ace lifted from his wrist.

“You’re done already?” Gavin asked rubbing his eyes, any longer and he may have fallen asleep.

“Not quite,” Ace said, his voice soft, “but Chloe always says to stop halfway and ask if you need to use the restroom, or drink water.”

Gavin looked at him and had to do a double-take, this was _not_ the same person who’d been talking to him earlier. For starters, their cheeks were a nice shade of pink, their eyes were a frosty blue bordering on grey, they held depth, their colours vibrant. The vampire’s skin wasn’t a chalky pale, instead, it glowed—healthy and human.

“How long can vampires go without eating?” Gavin asked, looking at his wrist like it was bewitched. The bruise Chloe had mention was beginning to blossom, forming an amorphous circle, warmer than the surrounding skin.

Ace cocked his head again—an interesting quirk—he hadn’t expected the question, therefore his answer lacked the clipped guards that’d become reflex in his tone. “The record is held by an ancient vampire who was quoted to have survived a thousand days without blood. According to the records, he’d been dormant,” he answered, “though on average five or six days is the maximum one should go without feeding, none at all if one can help it.”

“So, you’ve got humans beat there too,” Gavin said, managing a half-smile.

“It’s not a competition,” Ace reminded, a trace of amusement in his voice, “our evolutionary divergence has given and taken away in equal measure—my species is no better equipped to handle this world than yours is.”

“Sure,” Gavin said with a roll of his eyes. Now that he was free—at least temporarily—he took the moment to stretch his legs, let them carry him where they may. They stopped by one of the large bookcases, fingering the heavy tomes. He’s never cared for books and anytime he’d tried to read for fun it only ended in frustration. His doctors had called it dyslexia, his mother refused to believe that.

“What do you teach?” Gavin asked, turning away from the uncomfortable reminder of his inadequacy. “Where do you teach?” he added, wondering if he’d ever passed the doctor in the halls of Michigan University if he’d even remember (or forget) such a face.

“Robotics and some other forms of engineering at various universities, mainly Detroit,” Ace said, entertaining the idea of a chit-chat, “but I haven’t taught full time in decades. I do special lectures and attend meetings where my research has been used.”

“So, you’re like legit,” Gavin hummed, feeling even smaller in his skin. He’d wanted to teach at one point until he learned a teacher’s salary was worth shit, and the school board was all sorts of underfunded. That wasn’t even accounting for motivation or personal skill.

“I suppose,” the vampire said, unsure how to respond—if he even needed to. He figured the polite thing to do would be to ask about Gavin’s schooling, about his degree, what he planned to do with his future—continue this line of menial conversation, but he found that he lacked the social energy.

Gavin did an awkward half-turn, touching the chess pieces on a nearby table. He clutched one in his hands, running his thumb over the hand-carved wood. Everything in this house felt expensive, he feared he’d break things by breathing wrong on them. He heard Ace shift on the couch, noted his footsteps as he approached the board. Gavin didn’t move, playing with the arrangement of the pawn like he knew what he was doing.

The vampire moved a piece to counter Gavin’s attack, finding a game of chess far more entertaining than forced social pleasantries.

Gavin moved another piece, trying to recall faint memories of his old math teacher explaining the rules. Ace didn’t hesitate like he did, didn’t flirt with the idea of a piece before changing his mind. He was efficient, purposeful.

Which only served to annoy Gavin.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Gavin said with a huff after Ace had eaten his knight with a bishop. The vampire shook his head, his smirk grinding on Gavin’s nerves. “You were probably born before chess was invented,” he said out of spite.

“I can assure you I was not,” Ace said, surprising them both with a grin. What could he say? A full belly tended to improve his humour.

“Whatever,” Gavin said, crossing his arms.

Ace, instead of giving up on the game, took Gavin’s perspective, scratching his chin at their individual pieces. “If you moved your remaining rook here,” Ace said, adjusting accordingly, “and if I blocked you here,” he continued, playing both their parts, “then we could end in a draw.”

“A _draw_ , how exciting,” Gavin said, already walking away.

“One doesn’t always play to win,” Ace said like some sage monk, “sometimes it’s better to have no other motive but to play.” He reset the board, sitting in the empty chair, and moving forward with his pawn.

Gavin relented, returning to his discarded side, and mimicking the action. He deliberated on each of his moves, understanding the restrictions of each piece the more he played. After their second round secured his defeat—embarrassingly fast, might he add—he challenged Ace to another, resetting the board before the vampire could agree.

“What the fuck,” Gavin cursed, after his tenth consecutive defeat, “you’re cheating.”

“I most definitely am not,” the vampire said, affronted. He was more offended by the accusation than by the unnecessary swear word.

“Then how do I win?” Gavin asked, not giving a second thought to the fact that Ace has had hundreds of years to learn the craft, to practice against better opponents, to develop a playing style.

“You need to learn patience—you rush each time you see an opening before you even stop to consider if it’s a trap,” Ace said, resetting the board, “I’ll go easy on you this time,” he reassured, sounding as patronizing as he looked.

“Just play the damn game,” Gavin said, looking at the board like it could tell him the best strategy. He considered each move, taking minutes to decide before he so much as touched a piece.

Ace never tried to rush him, simply watched him as he played, remained quiet even as he noted some of Gavin’s reckless moves. Like just now, Gavin had left his queen open for capture, leading to a perfect checkmate. Ace decided to ignore it, going for another pawn instead, knowing it’d expose his own king.

Gavin saw it immediately, jumping in his chair at the thought of winning a game. “Check,” Gavin gloated, placing his rook in a truly terrible spot. Ace had to bite his tongue to keep from pointing it out.

The vampire kept playing as if it’d never happened, capturing the bishop.

“Checkmate!” Gavin exclaimed with the most satisfied smirk, holding up the captured king like a trophy, it almost made Ace regret his decision to forfeit the game.

“Congratulations, Gavin,” Ace said, extending a hand to his donor, clarifying when Gavin narrowed his eyes. “It’s customary to shake hands when ending a game, shows good sportsmanship.” Gavin took it, still coveting the king in his least dominant hand.

“We should play another game,” Gavin said, his tone just on the right side of smug, “since I can beat you now.”

It’d be so easy for the vampire to burst Gavin’s little bubble, he nearly thought about how righteous it’d be to beat him in less than five moves, to see the destruction of his inflamed ego. But as it stood, Ace wasn’t in the business of retribution.

“Maybe another time,” Ace said, resetting the board for the last time, “it’s nearly twelve, you should go see Chloe about lunch and your paycheck.”

“What?” Gavin said, the word as inelegant as the reminder that he’d been at work. “Wait, you didn’t eat again,” Gavin said, feeling like he’d cheated the vampire out of his meal—which was a strange thought to have, considering this was _his_ blood they were talking about.

“I’ll be fine,” Ace said, dismissing the man, “it does the stomach no good to rush things,” he said, though the dull throb in his gums begged to differ.

“You’re not gonna dock my pay, are you?” Gavin asked, because it would only be fair, but the thought twisted in his belly like a dull knife.

Ace paused on the last piece, the pawn, the ultimate beginning. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, not because he was some altruistic aristocrat looking out for the less unfortunate, but because it’d truly never crossed his mind.

“I—” Gavin was about to jump into the defensive, as to how it hadn’t been entirely his fault they’d been side-tracked and ended their workday prematurely, however, he was struck dumb by what’d been said. “Thank you,” Gavin said, an odd little worm wriggling in his subconscious.

“See you next week,” Ace said, with a small wave, staying behind and picking up a book from his shelf. Gavin nodded, knowing a goodbye when he heard it.

* * *

Chloe’s door was open, just as she’d promised, soft classical music floated in the air, growing louder when Gavin stood by the threshold. She spotted him immediately, ushering for him to come inside.

“How was your first feed?” she asked, her smile gentle.

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be,” Gavin said rubbing at the pink welt on his wrist. It tingled under his attention, like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. “You kind of get used to the bite after a while.”

“Yes,” Chloe nodded, her gentle features overflowing with understanding, “everyone’s pain tolerance is different, but most agree that the anticipation is worse than the bite itself.”

“Just like with anything else.”

“Indeed,” Chloe agreed, putting away her notebook and pen, “are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Gavin said, if only to be polite. That is until he saw the meal Chloe laid out on the dining room table, and had his nose assaulted by the irresistible aroma. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, he found himself salivating at the mere thought of eating.

“Everything smells great,” Gavin said, looking at the dishes with longing. He’d thought his breakfast had been sufficient, having found enough money to buy jelly and a few protein bars from the convenience store next door. His stomach had to disagree, rumbling its insistence.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, motioning for him to sit as she shared a plate for him, “I hope you don’t mind that it’s strictly plant-based,” she said, sharing he own plate, “I gave up meat when my wife said I tasted like death.”

Gavin choked on a laugh, blushing at the insinuation—well, at least that answered that question. “It’s okay, I was raised vegetarian, so I don’t really know any different,” he admitted, remembering the one time he’d had meat and the awful bout of indigestion he’d suffered as a result. He hadn’t even had the courage to tell his mom.

“I hope he wasn’t too cold,” Chloe said halfway through her meal, “I try to remind him to loosen his stoicism, but it’s been hardwired into his code.”

“He was at first, literally,” Gavin tried to keep an ear out for footsteps, feeling like he’d be betraying some unspoken pact by speaking about his employer behind his back, “but maybe he was just hungry.”

“Yes, hunger makes monsters of us all,” Chloe said, pausing for a moment, “but he did eat, right?”

“Yes,” Gavin reassured, having the pink welt to prove it.

“Good,” Chloe said, something more than relief behind her sigh, “good,” she repeated, speaking to herself.

They finished their lunch in silence, Gavin even managed seconds, hating the maximum capacity of his stomach. Chloe packed him some to-go boxes, insisting before he could even protest. On top of them, she placed his check, the swirly signature catching his eyes before the zeroes did.

“I still can’t believe all this is worth two-thousand dollars,” Gavin mumbled, pocketing his paycheck.

“It does tend to sound like a scam, trust me, I’ve worked through the legalese a few dozen times over,” Chloe said, walking him to the front door, “drive safe, Gavin, and please follow the care packet for the next week, it is important you rest and drink plenty of water—and stock up on some pain medication, headaches tend to be a common side effect after a first feed.”

“Will do,” Gavin said, even as he half-considered ignoring her recommendations. But he didn’t, stopping by his bank to cash his check, making a quick detour to the pharmacy for some headache relief medicine, and groceries now that he thought about it.

It was instant bliss when his card didn’t get declined, his heart still doing that wrenching motion it’d learned through constant exposure of humiliating moments. It made trying to survive these next few months palatable, a thought that’d never occurred to him prior to their game of chess.

He supposed this was his draw with the universe. Until it inevitably fucked him over.


	4. The Sun, the Moon, and all Other Light Sources

Gavin, though hard-headed, knew when to put aside pride for common sense—or at least he wanted to believe he did. So, the next morning he picked up the care packet from the counter, forcing himself to focus on the detailed print.

Everything was laid out in black and white, the index making it easy to switch between topics. With his schedule already on his phone, he moved to the next section—Side Effects.

It prefaced by saying that many donors will experience one or more of these side effects but that they should level out with subsequent feeds, however, everybody differed and what may seem like a side effect, could easily be misinterpreted for one’s own bodily functions.

Gavin sighed, feeling like he was being punished for donating. “Oh, please tell me the shit I have to look forward to,” he grumbled, thumbing to the next page.

Venom has been a hot topic of research since the advent of technology. It wasn’t until recently that they’d been able to observe and compare its effects on humans as a medicine instead of a toxin. In small quantities it was harmless, acting like nothing more than a mild sedative—think melatonin for an insomniac. However, it’s been noted in venom overdoses that it occupied the same receptors opiates did, leading to a lethargic and euphoric feeling akin to floating, making venom the second-most overused drug. On the dangerous end, it depressed the respiratory system, vasodilated all vessels, and death was often a result of these overdoses.

Now Gavin was trying to think how much was _too_ much.

A healthy dose of paranoia swam into his gut, churning the bile in his stomach. He’d have to clarify with Chloe before his next feeding session.

The packet continued to discuss the other most common side effect: polycythemia. He definitely did not read that word, he and it came to an understanding that it existed, but he wasn’t about to try and pronounce it. It meant, in its most basic sense, the over-multiplication of his blood cells. Specifically, the red, oxygen-rich ones. The process was almost immediate, venom aggregating the need for more blood, and his human body complying with that demand.

“Fucking great,” Gavin cursed, really wishing this had been explained to him _before_ he signed. But maybe it had, and he’d signed anyway.

Insomnia was next on the list. When the depressant (venom), begins to filter out of the system, it leaves the body in a state of unrest. Venom, through evolution, has been designed to be maintained at a constant level, vampires were meant to make drudges, and some human bodies were more readily primed to accept. Insomnia is the result of not meeting those evolutionary demands, but that too should clear when the body developed a tolerance for the ebb and flow. The packet estimated a month.

There was also another point on insomnia, a footnote clarifying that this wasn’t true insomnia, but that it’d been noted in drudge/vampire pairs the shifting of the natural diurnal rhythm for a nocturnal cycle. Whereas the vampire would feed in the early hours of the morning, and the drudge would sleep as the vampire “rested” during the sun’s highest peak and wake up at sunset. It was said to be yet another evolutionary advancement to protect the vampire from the sun.

This all sounded a little too one-sided to Gavin, delving far too deep into drudge territory. He’d asked his mom once if she’d been a drudge, considering that his father was a hybrid. Her face had gone beet red, an angry pout falling on her lips. She’d refused to answer, claiming you simply didn’t _ask_ a question like that. To this day he wasn’t sure if that’d been a yes or a no. He supposed now was as good a time as any to consult the trusty old internet.

It hadn’t failed him yet. 

_How easy is it to become a drudge?_

Apart from the statute on drudgery and the legalities behind it, many verified websites agreed it wasn’t as simple as getting bit a few times. The human needed a constant level of venom in their blood—like the packed had said—the vampire then needed to be of mature age and have had at least two sets of adult fangs. No one vampire could have more than one drudge, vampiric hybrids could not have drudges and conversely, could not become drudges. Though there was always some jackass in the comments claiming otherwise.

Had his mother been the exception, or had she been upset by her circumstance? Gavin didn’t have the courage to ask her again like he once had. He supposed if she’d wanted to tell him she would have.

God knows his father had left without saying a word about it.

The sun shined through the window, reaching its daily summit. Gavin covered his eyes against the brightness, standing to close the blinds when his hands failed to divert the light.

He meant to return to his research, but his stomach called out its grumbly protests, urging him to the kitchen. It was the first time in a while since he’d been able to cook in earnest, putting effort this time into making something edible.

Oatmeal seemed like a safe enough bet, hearty and nostalgic enough to put a smile on his face. He paired it with an egg scramble and some toast (with jelly this time) and set it to cool, taking a bite of his toast.

No more than a second passed before he’d shoved the rest of it down his throat, swallowing the piping hot oatmeal before his basic sense of self-preservation kicked in. He coughed at the inferno of sludge sliding down his throat, finding some orange juice, and drowning in it, regretting his decision when the acidity doubled the sensation of the burn. Tears were falling from his eyes, pain becoming far too personal for his liking.

He tried to take a deep breath, managing a few.

“What the fuck?” Gavin asked, looking at his hands like they’d been possessed. Jesus, he wasn’t an animal, he could’ve waited a few more minutes. Despite the traumatization of his esophagus, his stomach protested again, grumbling like a great beast. It cramped and lurched, a toddler in the backseat who’d been told no more candy.

Gavin was thankful for his purchases last night because, by the time he was full, his fridge was empty.

He groaned, standing with some effort, cradling his food baby. The lumpy cushions on the floor seemed to beckon him to sit, to lay his heavy head on them and rest. Obliging the request, he found himself dead asleep in seconds.

Gavin woke when the startling ring of his phone broke through his sleep. He opened his eyes disoriented and really _fucking_ thirsty. His phone kept ringing, slightly out of reach, his mother’s face on its screen. It was a struggle to move his limbs, having been disconnected from them for too long—if the dark sky was any indication.

“Hello?” Gavin answered, putting the phone to his ear, his voice was thick with sleep, slightly raw from the burn of his breakfast.

“Gavin, did you just wake up?” Ms. Reed asked, incredulous, “must be nice to sleep all day,” she teased.

“No, I mean, I was awake earlier, but I just got really tired all of a sudden,” he replied, rubbing his warm cheeks, “must be something I ate,” he continued, looking at his fridge with disdain.

“Of course,” she said, still teasing him, “I was actually calling because you’ve been on my mind a lot lately, I guess I can’t help but worry about my only son,” she admitted, her tone softening.

“I’m not your only son,” Gavin said, “you’ve got Kitty and Catie,” he reminded, visualizing the two furballs.

“You’re right,” Ms. Reed laughed, encouraging a smile from his lips, “but seriously, Gavin, I’ve actually been looking for a job for you, near here, so you can come back.”

“Mom—”

“No, listen, I know some people and they’d be more than willing to hire you,” she rushed to say, hope shining like a beacon in her voice.

“Mom, I don’t need nepotism to get a job,” he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, “besides, I found something—temporary at least.” Gavin hesitated on the details, knowing this situation was less than ideal, too familiar in all the painful ways.

“Really?” Ms. Reed asked, cautious, “it’s not illegal is it?”

“Mom!”

“What, you know how they like to take advantage of people with these get-rich-quick schemes, you need something stable, long-lasting,” she counselled, sounding like she’d pinch his cheeks through the phone if she could.

“I know that,” Gavin said, sounding less sure, “but this should help while I find something else.”

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Ms. Reed said, meaning it, “but try to keep what I said in mind.” Which was code for, _listen to your mother_.

“Will do, mom,” Gavin said as his farewell.

The idea of returning home still sat like a failure at the top of his crown, he would delay that inevitability until he couldn’t anymore.

For pride’s sake if nothing else.

* * *

Gavin arrived at the mansion an hour before schedule. He sat in his car, tired, but unable to sleep, and waited for the time to pass. There were no lights inside the estate, not even the odd motion sensor or pathway illumination. It made the house feel empty, abandoned. Gavin remembered only a few things from anatomy, but he couldn’t recall if vampires had evolved to see in the dark or just adapt to it.

The week passed in a blur, a very _gluttonous_ blur. He’d found himself burning through his paycheck on food and take-out, forsaking a bed, or a couch, or the savings for a car. All he wanted to do was eat his weight in food, which should have been startling to his metabolism, but he’d checked—he’d lost weight. He figured he would ask Chloe if this was supposed to happen, believe it or not, he did take the packet’s warning to heart, this might very well be a side effect.

Lost in thought, he startled out of his reverie by the sharp rap on his window. He looked to his right, lowering the passenger-side glass, embarrassment colouring his cheeks pink.

“Hello,” Gavin greeted, awkwardness making his palms sweat.

Ace raised a brow, taking a glance at his watch. “You’re early,” he replied, shifting his eyes towards the human. In the darkness of the early morn, they were the only things to catch the silvery light of the half-moon. “Far too early for it to be an accident,” Ace continued, almost talking to himself.

“Work ethic?” Gavin tried, his skin crawling at Ace’s severe gaze. It reminded him of a teacher who’d been fed up with their pupils’ bullshit, forcing Gavin to apologize, to hang his head—he hadn’t meant to offend. Stepping out of his car, he dusted his jacket to keep his hands busy, half-meeting the vampire’s eyes. “I felt bad for being late last week, so I hoped this would make up for it.” The truth wasn’t too different, though his omission of fearing for a loss of income could not be ignored. 

Ace exercised great patience whilst looking at Gavin, knowing it would do neither of them any good to be annoyed at hyper-punctuality. “Next time, a bit of forewarning would be appreciated—I too must prepare for our meetings,” he said, feeling the human’s eyes on his back when he turned.

Gavin followed the vampire, a toddler with his two left feet as he tripped over the cobbled floor, rushing to meet Ace at the front of the mansion. The inside was dark and cold save for the singular candle sitting in its holder. Ace looped a finger through the handle, leading them towards the back of the stairs, down a hallway reserved for a cheap scare. Gavin had been given no reason to fear the vampire—no valid reason that pertained to _him_ anyway.

“Where’s Chloe?” Gavin asked, expecting the blonde to make an impromptu appearance.

“She couldn’t make it this week—business trip,” Ace began, pulling out pre-arranged breakfast ingredients from the fridge, “she apologizes in advance and says to give you this now and the rest to take home. She should be back by our next feeding session, which should be on Thursday.”

“Does she always think of everything?” Gavin asked, his attention split between the waffles turning to a golden crisp in the waffle iron and the answer to his question.

“She’s been alive long enough to have the advantage,” the vampire replied, transferring the finished treat onto a plate, drizzling maple syrup and powdered sugar just how Chloe had instructed him to do. “I hope you’re hungry,” he said, presenting the plate once it was to his liking.

“I am,” Gavin groaned, feeling saliva pool in his mouth at the mere thought of a taste. He’d had breakfast, but the cavernous hole that’d become his stomach protested that fact, ignored it without remorse. He itched to eat, his manners the only thing stopping him from diving in tongue first.

“Then, please enjoy,” Ace said, handing Gavin the utensils, “I’ll be in the common room when you’re done.”

“Thank you,” Gavin said, remembering to be polite a second after the vampire left. Now alone with his breakfast, he didn’t hesitate tearing through the pastry. The waffle melted against his tongue—the maple sugar sweet enough to rot his teeth. He lamented the empty plate, not ashamed to admit he’d lapped up the remainder of the syrup with kitten licks.

It was an admirable job, nearly fooling the eye into thinking the dish was clean. But Gavin was raised better than that, and washed it, using a kitchen towel to dry it, finding its matching set in one of the many cabinets.

The sun began its careful ascent in the sky, its brightest point hidden by the trees. Gavin shook his head, navigating the long hallways until he was in the feeding room, surprised to find Ace sitting by the chess table, his pawn already moved forward.

“Care for a game?” the doctor asked when Gavin rounded in front of him.

“So I can kick your ass again?” he rebutted, shaking his head. He took the seat regardless, wishing he’d spent less of his week eating and more of it learning.

“I find loss to be quite important in competition,” Ace said, moving his pawn again after Gavin.

“Why is that?” Gavin asked, studying the board like he knew how to make sense of the pieces. It was still early enough—anyone’s game at this point.

“It teaches humility,” Ace said, advancing his queen, “checkmate.”

“What?” Gavin asked, looking at all the pieces, “no, you can’t play that, it’s not fair,” he said on a borderline whine. He felt betrayed by his own army, by the ambush, stuck between all his pawns, his queen of no use to him. Ace’s black queen seemed just as smug as he was, her lacquer glinting in the low-morning light.

“All’s fair,” the vampire began to quote, letting the saying complete itself as he stood and moved to the couch, adjusting his blazer to smooth out the wrinkles.

Gavin’s glare bored holes in the back of the doctor’s head as he replicated his movements, taking his seat beside him. He almost didn’t want to offer him his arm, incensed as he was.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Ace began, mirth still lingering in his voice, “Chloe has beaten me in every single game we’ve played—so one out of twenty-one isn’t bad.”

“I’m starting to think you let me win,” Gavin grumbled, relaxing his shoulders. He wondered what it’d be like to play against Chloe, if she’d encourage him to get better or discourage him with one too many losses.

“Never,” Ace said, “it would ruin my reputation.”

“You and I would be the only two to know,” Gavin reminded, stretching out his arm.

“Exactly.”

* * *

Chloe’s food settled in his stomach like a warm hug, filling despite not being nearly enough. Gavin forced himself to put the money in his account and only use a reasonable amount on food. He needed a bed eventually goddammit.

Pacifying his hunger with water, he took to his computer again, watching lectures on venom. He fell asleep halfway through the first one, waking up when a mid-roll ad startled him with promises of ‘0% down on a new car!’

Gavin groaned, shutting off the laptop and taking to the streets again, to his bucket of bolts, feeling aimless when he started the engine. It was a waste of gas to just sit there and idle, but what else could he do when staying home seemed just as futile?

A tiny itch began in the crook of his wrist, right atop where the vampire bit him. The blushing skin had calmed some, but he could still make out the outline of the rash, traced it with his finger. His pulse jumped at his touch, a worrying sensation.

He cut off the engine, sitting in the dim light of his dashboard like an aimless ghost. The night was fast approaching as Summer began to crest into Fall, he could go out for a drink, try to find friends, or contact the acquaintances he’d made in college. He _could_ call his mom, or even just text her to say hi, but his hands were busy scratching at his rash, deepening the colour to an angry red.

Gavin’s stomach grumbled again, an unquenchable beast. “I just ate,” he supplicated with his stomach, holding the void. He dug out his phone and looked at his bank account, weighing the options of spending more money on take-out versus going back upstairs to cook. Ultimately his desire to devour a horse won over his common sense, justifying his actions by reminding himself he’d be paid again next week.

* * *

“Is she still on her business trip?” Gavin asked early the next morning in lieu of a greeting. He’d entered the quiet and dark home expecting the blonde, but all he had for company were the empty halls.

“Unfortunately, there was a delay with the flight,” Ace said, ignoring the sliver of irritation at his donor’s readiness to dismiss common courtesy. “You’re welcome to call her if you have any concerns.”

“No—I just,” Gavin paused, letting his shoulders drop, “forget it, I guess I’ll just have to deal with it,” he grumbled, cryptic as ever.

“Deal with what, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ace probed, fishing a lighter from his pocket and lighting the nearest candle. He placed it in a holder, watching wax drip into the chamber waiting for Gavin to answer.

“It’s nothing,” Gavin tried to dismiss it, but his stomach chose now to make its hourly appearance, “well, it might be a side effect,” he amended, rubbing his abdomen.

“Hunger?” Ace asked, confident in his guess. He motioned with a hand to the other hall, leading them to the kitchen, lighting a few candles along the way.

“Incessant,” Gavin groaned, “I can’t go more than a few hours without stuffing something in my face. I’ve spent half my paycheck on take-out,” he lamented, grieving for the burning hole in his pocket.

“How unfortunate,” Ace said, detached in his curiosity, he opened the fridge and pulled out the ingredients for an egg scramble, recalling Chloe’s instructions with every move he made. “Seems we might have to compensate you for your loss,” he said as an afterthought.

“What, no, I’m not complaining so that you give me more money,” Gavin said, rubbing the back of his neck and subsequently scratching the itch on his wrist, “that’s why I wanted to talk to Chloe, so she’d confirm this was a side effect.”

“I know enough about side effects to let you know if this is or isn’t,” Ace said, turning his head to meet Gavin’s stare—the flick of his eyes to his donor’s wrist was unintentional, he’d been drawn to the motion of Gavin’s rhythmic scratching. It truly couldn’t be helped.

Regardless, Ace shook his head, scrambling the eggy mixture in the pot until it was the appropriate consistency, he then added a rainbow of bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, salt and pepper, and a bit of cilantro to garnish the top. He buttered two pieces of toasted bread and presented it all to his donor, motioning for him to ‘dig in’ as it were.

“Do you normally cook your employees’ breakfast?” Gavin asked, apprehensive, even as the mixture of herbs and vegetables blended beautifully with the egg substitute. He nearly closed his eyes at the taste, biting his lip to keep from groaning. There was nothing quite like a well-cooked meal.

“I cannot say that I do,” Ace said, starting the process of washing the dishes, “Chloe’s normally in charge of the human aspects of our arrangement. Consider it her foresight and not mine that there are edible items in this house.”

“Makes sense,” Gavin said, his manners falling flat when he spoke through a full mouth. He was on the cusps of inhaling his food, forcing himself to slow down despite his stomach’s _vocal_ protests.

There was a small quirk on Ace’s lips, almost as if he were amused. “I believe you might want to reconsider accepting the compensation,” he said, “if I were in your shoes, I would take the opportunity to say yes.”

Gavin snorted, aborting the roll of his eyes with considerable effort. “I guess we’re feeding each other now,” he mumbled, scratching again at the itch on his wrist.

Again, Ace’s eyes flittered down to the action, lingering for a moment longer than was necessarily polite. He straightened his stance, pulling at his blazer to dislodge the wrinkles. “I’ll be in the common room when you’re done,” he said, the sentence becoming a habit.

Gavin sighed when the itch abated, looking at his red wrist with a critical eye. Was this another side effect? Should he even bring it up at this point? There were too many variables being hurled at him, the universe’s wicked need to fuck with him was getting to his head, and like a trembling leaf in a storm, it couldn’t be helped if he felt vulnerable.

He finished his food in silence, satisfying at least one of said variables. The candles that had lit the hallway were now snuffed, replaced by the rise of the early morning sun. It was beautiful to watch the orange bounce across the hardwood floor, reflect into the deep blues and royal reds of the curtains. The house seemed to warm up, feeling less like a gothic mansion and more like home.

Gavin half expected to find the vampire by the chess table, but it seemed their little game of war would have to wait for another fair opportunity. Instead, Ace stood by the window, his eyes reflecting the orange of the rising sun. He looked otherworldly in the glow, his skin lively and inviting despite its rough edges. Gavin had to remind himself this was his employer, but above that, a _vampire_ —he shouldn’t be fooled by the thin veneer of humanity.

“If you keep looking at the sun, you’ll go blind,” Gavin said, earning a half-chuckle.

“If it weren’t for the glass, I might very well be,” Ace said, tapping it with his fingers, “I assume you’re ready.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Gavin replied, scratching his wrist absent-minded.

“May I see?” Ace asked, opening his hand palm up for Gavin’s hand. His donor hesitated, dropping both his arms to his side, a light blush blooming on his cheeks. “I promise I won’t bite—not yet at least.”

“Har, har,” Gavin replied, dry as a bone. He extended his hand with a balled fist, revealing the red streaks brought about his ceaseless scratching. Ace was careful as he took Gavin’s wrist, tracing the raised outline of his own bite. His fangs twinged in his gums, eager to eat.

“This should’ve disappeared by now,” the vampire said, ignoring his basic instincts for investigation. He pressed against the agitated skin, feeling the pulse dance beneath his fingertip, his nail leaving a clear indent. It felt slightly harder than the rest of his skin, warmer too. “Have you ever been tested for a venom allergy?” Ace asked, rubbing at the semi-lunar mark whilst waiting for a response, “are you allergic to bees or wasps?” he added.

“Never been stung, and ah, not really something they require at your yearly physical,” Gavin said, his heart doing strange things in his chest. It didn’t help that Ace was studying his face for a response, could see him struggle to contain the blush that refused to dissipate the moment they’d touched.

“Well, they should,” Ace murmured, dropping the limb.

“Why?” Gavin asked, crossing his arms in haste.

Ace’s stare bordered on condescending—his sigh tainted with frustration. “You’re more susceptible to its effects when you’re allergic,” Ace began, sounding more like an MD than his Ph.D. would suggest. His fangs began to protest anew, he disregarded them, putting some distance between him and his donor. “It may explain the side effects.”

“Fucking great,” Gavin cursed, shaking his head, “it’s like I learn something new every day,” he grumbled, turning to the couch, sitting in it with a huff, “is there anything else I should know?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Ace said, taking his own seat by his donor, “I’d consult with Chloe about this, she’s probably more well-versed with these matters.”

“Right, the human side of things,” Gavin said, forcing his shoulders to relax. He extended his arm, the universal invitation to proceed.

“Exactly,” Ace said, looking between the offered wrist and the one offering it. “I’m almost hesitant to bite,” he admitted, despite the protesting push of his fangs.

“You’re kidding,” Gavin said, giving in to the roll of his eyes, “it’s not like I’ve gone into anaphylaxis, we don’t even know if what you’re saying is true.”

“I’m quite certain there’s something different about you,” Ace said, meeting Gavin’s incredulous gaze, “or your blood at least.”

Gavin’s throat ran dry at the mention of blood, wondered if Ace could tell his father was a hybrid by taste alone. Would it upset him to have had that information withheld?

“Well, if you don’t want it, I can just leave,” Gavin threatened, feeling it’s empty nature like a gaping wound. He couldn’t quit so early in his payroll—he barely had enough money to afford next month’s rent.

“I didn’t say that,” Ace reminded, holding up his hands as an apology, “I can’t help hypothesizing, it’s second nature.”

“Alright, professor, just eat,” Gavin said, extending his arm again, “you’re wasting precious daylight.”

* * *

Compensation sure looked good in his bank account—a _thousand_ dollars more simply because of a few side effects. Gavin sighed, letting go of the tension that seemed to cling to his muscles every time he left the vampire’s house. Maybe he was worried the check would bounce, that the big house and flashy cars were all a front and he’d truly found himself in a scam. But this was the third check and the happy ding the ATM made when it cleared was becoming music to his ears.

Ace’s farewell dinner sat on the passenger side of his car, its aroma dancing around his nose whilst he finished his drive home. He almost couldn’t wait to dig in, taking the stairs two at a time and bursting through his front door with the urgency of a drowning man.

Not a moment later he had his fork buried into the stir-fry, swirling the noodles until he formed a ball big enough to choke him. He chewed only enough to swallow, allowing a tiny groan of satisfaction as the black hole in his stomach got a little smaller.

Chloe must have taught Ace everything he knew because he couldn’t tell the difference between their cooking, maybe—if he cared to nit-pick—there was a bit of inexperience in the seasoning, but it went unnoticed in his hunger. Thankfully, the vampire had cooked double portions, no judgement in his eyes as he’d watched Gavin salivate over the food.

Indulging in his meal reminded him of what Ace said, how he’d never cooked for another employee before. It had his cheeks burning bright at the thought of this somehow making him special. The rational side of his brain not trapped in feel-good food hormones was quick to point out that this wasn’t out of the ordinary. All businesses should provide their employees with the means to a meal.

Gavin wouldn’t rebut, he wouldn’t mention how most businesses don’t prepare said meal from scratch, taking the time and skill to cook it well, then packaging it so it survived the long forty-five-minute drive.

No, he wouldn’t mention that.

* * *

Finally, _finally_ , he got a fucking bed. Gavin watched the men bring it in, set up the frame on which it sat, then place it on top. He waited a few minutes after he’d locked to door to dive headfirst into the memory foam, thankful he’d splurged the extra hundred for same-day installation.

His body sank as the mattress learned his form, it was relaxing enough to lull him into a light nap, the sunshine flitting through his window warming him so he didn’t need a blanket. When he woke up again, it was dark, said nap having turned into a deep sleep, REM included.

The familiar empty pit feeling of his stomach began its deathly howl, forcing him—and his peace—out of bed. He contemplated his fridge, thankful for its fullness and begrudging its rawness. The last thing he wanted to do when he was this hungry was cook.

Resigned, however, he prepared something simple, waiting only long enough so it didn’t burn his tongue when he touched it. Tomorrow would mark week three of a long six months—he’d have to talk to Chloe soon, ask her if there was a way to curtail his metabolic demands, or at least meet somewhere in the middle.

Gavin scratched his wrist, jumping when a zap of static discharge ran up his arm. He shook out his arm, a masochist as he pressed into the crook of his wrist, gasping when it shocked him again.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed, rubbing his forehead. The pink welt had turned red through the course of his meddling, and now it tingled something fierce. It was reminiscent of Ace’s biting—that uncomfortable numbness—like he’d dipped his entire hand in TV static.

This was enough to distract him from his food, taking precedence as he tried massaging his wrist without triggering another zap. Eventually, he kneaded through the worst of it, watching as his skin returned to that light shade of pink that _never went away_.

* * *

“She’s still not back?” Gavin asked, stuck in a revolving door.

“She is, actually,” Ace said, getting used to Gavin’s lack of greeting, it was very matter of fact, and with time he was sure he could appreciate cutting through unnecessary pleasantries, “but even Wonder Woman needs her beauty rest—it was a long trip.”

“Of course,” Gavin said, scratching his chin, “do you mind if we just feed you first?” he asked, his wrist burning beneath the fabric of his clothes. It would’ve been startling if the ardent nature of his skin hadn’t been building during his drive.

“Are you certain? I’ve already prepared breakfa—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Gavin snapped, the pounding in his head in tune with the beating of his heart, “I’m certain. Please.”

Ace nodded once, leading them to the feeding room. Gavin seemed to relax in his seat, extending his arm like it didn’t belong to him anymore. The vampire took it and examined it as he did last week, tracing the red welt with curious fingers, his donor’s pulse jumped to meet him, hard and insistent.

“It’s gotten worse,” Ace commented, his brows coming together, “are you sure you’re okay to continue?”

“Please stop asking that, because I have no other choice but to say yes,” Gavin gritted out, stuck between his debt and a hard place.

“You always have a choice, Gavin,” Ace murmured, letting go of his donor’s arm. “I’m going to call Chloe—you should eat breakfast in the meantime,” he said, already leaving the room for his study.

Gavin couldn’t protest, or he could, but he’d be talking to a wall. Determined not to let this get the better of him, he took the vampire’s advice and sought out his breakfast, thankful the pancakes were still warm when he hovered his hand over one of them.

The pit in his stomach turned into a knot, making it impossible to finish his food. He was familiar enough with the kitchen to pack away the leftovers, washing the dirty dish to occupy whatever space his mind still had.

By the time he returned to the foyer, Chloe was in a deep discussion with Ace, her face bare but just as beautiful, the bags under her eyes more of an accessory than a burden. She turned her tired eyes to Gavin, adjusting her turtleneck so it pressed against her chin.

“Hello Gavin,” she said, holding a brown paper bag in her hand, “I sincerely apologize for not warning you about my absence, but my client’s trial happened to coincide with your schedule,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep.

“No, please,” Gavin said, dismissing her worry, “calling you was his idea,” he continued, having no qualms throwing Ace under the bus.

“As it often is,” Chloe teased, her smile rejuvenating her face, “he tells me you’re having some extreme side effects, may I see?” she asked, holding out a hand. It pulled the sweater away from her arm enough for him to have a peek at her wrist, revealing a matching welt on her skin. Gavin furrowed his brow, shifting his eyes from the site to Ace as if he was responsible for the mark. It’d looked rather fresh, maybe no more than a few minutes old.

“Sorry,” she apologized, hiding her marks, “just, here,” she sputtered—a first—handing Gavin the brown paper bag. “I brought Benadryl just in case it’s an actual allergic reaction, it should lessen the effect enough for you to be more comfortable.”

“Thank you, Chloe, but—”

“I’m sorry, Gavin, but I really need to go back,” she interrupted, looking at her phone, “I promise I’ll be here on Wednesday and answer whatever questions you have.” Giving them a kiss goodbye, she rushed out of the door, her black SUV peeling out of the driveway.

Gavin turned to face the vampire, narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath before asking, “Did you bite her?”

“What?” Ace asked in possibly the most inelegant way possible—it wasn’t often he was caught by surprise. “No, of course not, why would—”

“She had the mark,” Gavin said, pointing to his wrist, “so either you bit her, or someone else did.”

Ace’s incredulity turned to amusement, transforming his frown to a smart smugness that crawled under Gavin’s skin. “Maybe someone did,” he said, his long legs carrying him towards the feeding room.

Gavin realized he wasn’t gonna’ get much more than that out of him. He sighed, his schema on Chloe evolving. It’d have to wait, however, as the paper bag beckoned him to open it. Indeed, there was a bottle of Benadryl, untampered, the safety seal still surrounding the child-proof top. Not only had Chloe crawled out of bed in the middle of the fucking sunrise, but she’d stopped to get him medicine.

She deserved more than a medal for her efforts.

He read the instructions, returning to the kitchen for some water. It’d said to take two pills for his age and weight, and so he did, downing them with some difficulty. He could swallow many things, but pills had never been one of them.

The bottle said it could take up to an hour for him to feel the effects of the medicine, so he returned to the feeding room, sitting by the chess table. Now was as good a time as any to practice. He said as such when the vampire raised an eyebrow.

“Has humility made her acquaintance?” Ace asked, moving across the board with the efficiency of a machine.

“Has she made yours?” Gavin asked, disabling his competitiveness before it got the best of him.

“Plenty of times,” the vampire said, his grin wide enough to show his teeth. Gavin half expected his fangs to pop through, to show his nature, but either the vampire had enough self-control to keep them retracted or Gavin wasn’t looking hard enough.

“Dammit,” Gavin mumbled when he lost—again.

“You’re getting better,” Ace complimented, resetting the board, “more organization to your chaos.”

“I’m sure you mean for that to make me feel better,” Gavin said, with a roll of his eyes, “but it didn’t.”

“My apologies then,” Ace said, letting Gavin go first.

“I just don’t know how you know where I’ll move before I move,” Gavin said, claiming one of Ace’s bishops just for his rook to retaliate against his knight.

“I’m looking at all the possibilities and creating scenarios for each one,” Ace said, checking Gavin’s king, “with time, you’ll learn to do the same.”

“We don’t all have three hundred years to learn how to play chess,” Gavin retorted, running away with his king.

Ace conceded with a smile, following Gavin’s king around the board until he was cornered between a knight and a pawn. “Checkmate,” he said, soft enough so the defeat wouldn’t seem so damaging.

Gavin grumbled, but it was interrupted by a yawn, his hand coming to cover his face. “I think the Benadryl might have kicked in,” he said, looking at his left wrist for signs of improvement. It itched less and the skin looked close to normal, enough to bring him some relief. “I guess I am allergic to your venom.”

“Would you like to terminate our contract?” Ace asked, resetting the board with no intention of playing. “It’s a bit short notice, but I don’t want to jeopardize your health on my behalf.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Gavin mocked, standing with a stretch, “I’ll be fine, I grew out of my pollen allergy, I can probably grow out of this too.”

Ace raised a brow, Gavin’s stubbornness admirable even if it was foolhardy. But desperation did make fools of us all, and hunger was calling to him like a faraway siren, making him less likely to ask thrice. He followed Gavin to the sofa, taking the offered hand with care—he always imagined what it’d be like if this were permanent, if he could have this forever.

But complications during his birth had rendered his venom useless—incapable of creating drudges—the fact that it could get that much of a reaction in Gavin was more on his donor’s evolutionary quirk than anything having to do to with him.

Maybe pride had jaded his heart—better to not expect than be disappointed by the expectation.

Ace hoped Gavin didn’t notice how long he took to bite, lost in thought as he was, swimming in what-ifs, drowning in their futility. When he did bite, it was with conviction, letting his fangs sink deep into the wrist, anchor themselves against the flesh so he could suck without the fear of dislodgement.

Gavin flinched less now than he had last week, lesser still than their first time. His refusal to use the numbing agent, or even the partition, spoke of more than just bravery. Ace could taste his fear, feel it sting his tongue like a sour lemon. It was an old emotion, having sat within Gavin’s blood for many years, unearthed now with each feed.

The vampire wouldn’t ask, and he doubted Gavin would ever tell.

His eyes shifted towards his donor, noticing his unusual silence. Ace had to stop himself from chuckling, lest he waste the blood in his mouth—Gavin had fallen asleep, his head resting sideways on the cushion.

Sleep mellowed out his taste, like ironing out the wrinkles of a crumpled shirt. It let Ace relax, take his time, not so worried now with keeping tabs on feelings and appearances.

He managed to feed for three hours, pleasantly surprised to find himself full. Chloe always mentioned his feeding methods left much to be desired, often leaving his donors bloated with blood and he himself at minimum capacity. She’d be proud of him today.

Ace shook his head, letting Gavin sleep as he walked to the kitchen, Chloe’s instructions playing in his head. Surprisingly, the smell of food hadn’t been enough to rouse Gavin, even as he brought a plate big enough to feed three into the common room.

The vampire cocked his head, putting down the plate, pressing lightly on the human’s forehead. Gavin startled at the touch, looking around like he’d lost his sight. His heart leapt to his throat, clogging his ability to scream.

Ace took two big steps back, making himself as little of a threat as possible. “I made you lunch,” he said, placating with his donor’s basic instinct.

“What time is it?” Gavin asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

“A little past two o’clock,” Ace replied, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Oh my god,” Gavin grumbled, his neck stiff from its uncomfortable position. He tried to massage the knot out of his muscles, but it was to no avail—a rock refusing to move. “You said lunch?”

Ace smiled, glad that evolution hadn’t overshadowed their primitive pathways. “Yes,” the vampire said, gesturing to the overflowing plate of food sitting on the coffee table.

“Next time, could you just wake me up?” Gavin asked, careful as he juggled his food and sitting upright, “I really don’t want to spend more time here than I have to,” he continued through a chew.

It was honest, that brutal honesty that came when one had nothing to lose. It cut Ace perhaps a bit deeper than was intended, taking everything in him to school his features into a neutral expression.

“Duly noted,” the vampire said, the perfect picture of congeniality, “you’re free to let yourself out when you’re done, don’t worry about washing the dish.” Ace left without another word, his body a vertical line to the floor.

Gavin, in his ignorance, didn’t notice the offended lilt in the vampire’s words, couldn’t possibly predict his emotions even if he’d written them out. He focused instead on finishing his food and leaving without a trace, ignoring the slight itch in his wrist when he did just that.


	5. Friction

Despite his impromptu nap, Gavin found himself buried under his blankets not soon after he’d showered and brushed his teeth. His consciousness ran away from him, a distant comet burning in the atmosphere. When he managed to pull himself back, he did so with the uncomfortable sensation of sweat wrapped around every inch of his body.

“Gross,” he mumbled, peeling away the blankets. The air hit his skin like lightning, making the hairs on his arms stand at attention. Shivering, he returned to the warmth of his bedsheets, letting out a small sigh. It reminded him of every time he’d gotten sick, which wasn’t as often in his post-teen years.

Wrapped in his blankets, he waddled to the bathroom, fishing out a thermometer his mother had undoubtedly stashed in his stuff—since he didn’t have the foresight to do it himself—and stuck it in his mouth, waiting for it to beep.

100.4 °F

Welp, that answered one question.

Gavin groaned, returning to bed with no intention of doing anything today, even his stomach agreed that it was better to rest than try to power through. He did manage to wake a few times for a glass of water and a bathroom break, but it’d been a wasted day regardless, his fever low-grade but never breaking.

He barely woke up to the sound of his alarm clock, his head spinning whilst he silenced it. Gavin couldn’t get out of bed even if he wanted to, a loud ringing in his ears disorienting his senses.

Yep. Definitely sick. 

He managed to dial Chloe’s number, hoping she’d recovered enough from her trip to answer. “Good morning, Chloe speaking,” she said, her voice polite and professional.

“It’s Gavin,” he said, hearing himself through a filter, “I’m not feeling so hot, which is ironic, because I’m running a fever,” he continued, his joke falling flat, “I don’t know how these things work, if I can cancel or whatever, but I physically can’t get out of bed.”

“I’ll be there immediately,” Chloe said, the sound of her shuffling and grabbing her car keys distinct enough to give Gavin a pause.

“What?” he asked, doing a double-take, “no, please, I’ll be okay—”

“Gavin, you’ve had three reactions so far in the span of three weeks, I need to _confirm_ that you’re okay,” Chloe said, sounding more like his mother than his employer, “I should be there in about twenty minutes.”

Gavin said nothing but obliged nonetheless—there was no use arguing. If he were being honest with himself, he was thankful for her concern, he’d been meaning to talk to her—in private if he could help it—since last week.

He closed his eyes for a moment, just to open them again a second later when someone knocked on his door. Literally crawling out of bed, he struggled to stand, his limbs lead pipes dragging him down. Before opening the door, he looked through the peephole, Chloe’s distorted form on the other side.

“I still can’t believe you came,” Gavin mumbled, introducing her to his baren apartment, “please come in.”

“I wouldn’t if I weren’t a little worried,” Chloe said, putting down a bag of groceries, “I hope you’re hungry,” she said, already acquainting herself with the kitchen. Gavin didn’t answer, just made himself comfortable in the only proper chair he had in his living room.

Chloe had the uncanny ability to look as if she belonged in whichever space she occupied, confident and relaxed despite not possibly knowing where any of Gavin’s utensils were. He watched her from a heated heap of blankets like a kid did an artist, awed and envious in one fell swoop.

She paused for a moment, meeting his eyes from across the counter, her smile tight on her face. “I’m sure you have questions,” Chloe said, julienne chopping her vegetables, “feel free to ask them.”

“Are you a drudge?” Gavin asked in a moment of clarity. It felt just as it had when he’d asked his mother, Chloe even reacted the same, her expression darkening, the twitch of her brow bordering on embarrassed.

“Yes, actually,” she said after a breath, “I would’ve liked to tell you on my own accord, but I suppose there’s no time like the present.” Chloe brought a large pot of water to boil, dropping in the vegetables, half-covering them with a lid so she could continue giving Gavin her undivided attention.

“Yet, Ace isn’t your vampire,” Gavin said, treading carefully. Not careful enough, however, as Chloe latched onto his use of the first name like Velcro. Her smile was bright, cutting through the cloud of sickness hanging over Gavin’s head. 

“No, Ace isn’t my vampire,” Chloe agreed, nodding once, “if anything, he’s my son. Surely I’ve taken care of him long enough for it to be considered maternal.”

Gavin looked past Chloe’s physical age and into her eyes, how blue and bright they appeared beneath his kitchen light. She was a beautiful woman, wise beyond her years—or perhaps because of them.

“Why doesn’t he have a drudge?” Gavin asked. At this she did flinch, her face falling into a tight frown. “I mean, you don’t have to answer,” he rushed, backpedalling.

“No, it’s fine,” Chloe said, turning to her boiling vegetables before the water bubbled over, she stirred them, contemplating her next words. “I’m sure he appreciates me telling you all his secrets,” she teased, puncturing a carrot with her fork. “I suppose it’s only fair, considering your position and all.”

Gavin watched as she drained the excess water from the vegetables, seasoning them before she dug through her bag, retrieving an immersion blender. She stuck it into the pot, methodical as the vegetables blended into a thick puree. Parting two portions, she brought one to Gavin with a spoon, returning to the counter where she leaned against it, blowing on the puree until it was cool enough to ingest.

“Please don’t tell him I told you this, it’s been the bane of his existence since he was old enough to feed,” Chloe said, treating the subject with the delicacy it deserved. “Ace was born premature, which for a vampire is not unheard of but it is certainly uncommon,” she paused, taking a deliberate sip of her puree. “It may have interfered with the development of his venom glands, rendering his ability to make drudges impossible.”

When Gavin didn’t say anything she continued, looking into her puree like it held all the answers. “It’s why I’m surprised you’re exhibiting so many symptoms, all our other donors have had very mild almost unnoticeable reactions to his venom.”

Gavin’s eyebrows reached his forehead, pulling out the spoon in his mouth with a slow drag. He swallowed his puree with some difficulty, fighting the sudden lump in his throat. “What are you saying, Chloe?”

“Not what you think I’m saying,” she reassured with a smile, “we’ve proven he can’t make drudges,” she said, “trust me, I’ve tried. Hundreds of people have come through that door, hundreds have left unaffected.”

“Except for me,” Gavin pointed out, the fear of indentured servitude worming through his psyche.

“Yes,” Chloe agreed, not wanting to lie to her employee, “but it might have more to do with you being allergic than Ace’s venom, were he a normal vampire I’d terminate our contract immediately—it’s illegal to make a drudge without explicit written consent,” she reminded, looking at Gavin, “it’s also not fair to you.”

Gavin’s skin crawled with uncertainty, Chloe’s reassurances more like band-aids to bullet wounds than actual comfort. It was during times like these that his father’s face came into focus, clearer than it’d been when he’d seen him in his childhood.

He wanted to believe they’d been happy.

For the six years they’d lived together, he’d never seen his parents fight—whether that was their self-control or good parenting, Gavin couldn’t say. It wasn’t until his half-brother was born that things changed, that his father grew cold and distant, leaving them for a family that would live almost as long as he would.

Is that what he’d been for looking in his mother, longevity?

Resentment had turned to apathy many moons ago, but it still curled in the back of his throat like a bitter fruit.

Gavin finished his puree in silence, unwilling to admit he did feel better. Chloe’s cooking strong enough to bring anyone back from the brink of death. He mumbled thanks despite himself, getting up to wash his dish.

“Would you like to terminate your contract, Gavin?” Chloe asked, tracing the rim of her bowl with a manicured nail. It was the same question Ace had asked, admittedly gentler about it. 

“It’s not a matter of want, now is it?” Gavin said, gripping the sponge with lethal force, “I’ve yet to find anything comparable to this, and the places I keep applying to have a vendetta against new-grads,” he continued, his smile tight, “I need to get experience for the job I want, but no one will hire me without experience.”

She nodded, “The common mans’ paradox,” Chloe said, the twist of her lips ironic. “If you’re finding it particularly difficult, I could always refer you to some places—I’m sure all you need is a good recommendation letter.”

“Would you still write one if I accepted your offer of termination?” Gavin asked, his tone bordering on incredulous.

“Of course,” Chloe said with as much sincerity as she could muster, “you’re young, Gavin, you have the rest of your life to decided what you want to do, don’t let this cloud your judgement.”

She was being kind, far kinder than any stranger had ever been. He wasn’t smart enough to sleuth out ulterior motives—if she even had any. All he could do was nod, accepting her wisdom with silence.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” she said, packing away her equipment, “you should have enough puree for the night, I suggest you take some extra vitamins and drink plenty of water just in case you are coming down with something.”

“What about Ace?” he asked before she left.

“I’ve already told him you wouldn’t be making it today, he’ll be alright for a little while,” she said, dismissing his worry, “you can always go tomorrow if you feel better.”

“Will you be there?”

“I don’t think you need me anymore, Gavin,” she said, her tone playful, “Ace tells me he’s been cooking the food in my absence and that you didn’t gag when you had it, so, I think you’ll be okay.”

She startled a chuckle out of him, not expecting her to say it like that. “I’m sure he learned from the best,” he said, shaking his head. He would’ve made a joke about his gag reflex, but he didn’t think that was appropriate business conversation.

“Of course, but it’s still difficult to cook without tasting the food,” she reminded, “however, it’s not like you won’t see me again, my office is there, and if you do need me, you can always call. Just remember to take some Benadryl if you start experiencing symptoms again.”

“Right,” Gavin said, remembering how he’d stashed the pill bottle in his glove compartment for safekeeping.

“Have a wonderful rest of your day, Gavin, I’ll see you soon,” Chloe said, closing the door with a soft click after he’d mumbled his own goodbye.

* * *

The next morning, he woke up with the intent of making up a lost day. He was still paranoid they’d dock his pay and the last thing he needed was to give them an excuse to do so. Though not entirely himself, Chloe’s home cooking and his willingness to follow her instructions had helped, and as he drove through the light traffic of downtown Detroit, past the buildings that turned to trees the further into the woods he went, it filled him with a sense of purpose—as banal as it was.

He parked his car, shoving the bottle of Benadryl into his jacket pocket—just in case—and walked towards the stairs, knocking, and waiting for the vampire to answer. Ace opened the door dressed all in black—mourning couture, if you will—his eyes narrowing when they focused on Gavin.

“I would’ve called, but I don’t have your number,” Gavin said, wiggling his phone for emphasis.

“Is there a reason you’re here on your off day?” Ace asked, reluctance keeping him between the entrance and his home. 

“I wasn’t here yesterday, so Chloe said I could make it up today if I felt better,” Gavin said, shrugging his shoulders, “you might as well eat, I’m already here.”

“Do you feel better?” Ace asked, ignoring the ache in his gums at the mention of eating. He stepped away from the door, allowing enough of a gap for the other man to walk through. 

“I feel good enough,” Gavin replied in lieu of telling the truth, “did you cook breakfast?” he asked, changing the subject before he let himself inside.

Ace tracked his movements, watched as Gavin stood in the centre of the foyer, idling. “I can if you want me to,” he said, detouring to the left, leading the way to the kitchen. 

“Cool.”

“Anything specific?” the vampire asked, running through his options and his skill set. He’d almost exhausted his whole library, knowing he’d need to consult the wealth of information that was Chloe if he ever wanted to keep Gavin well-fed and satisfied.

“Surprise me,” Gavin said. He used to tell his mom the same thing when she’d ask him open-ended questions, and always—without fail—she’d turn around and yell boo. The thought made him smile and lost as he was in his mind, he didn’t notice when the vampire smiled back.

They settled in the kitchen, Gavin on a bar stool, and Ace by the stove, his sleeves rolled up as he whisked the wet and dry ingredients together. As the flour mixture cooked on the pan, he put a kettle to boil, prepping the tea leaves in an infuser.

It reminded Gavin of school mornings when he’d pad into the kitchen just to watch his mother float around the room and cook breakfast just before he had to catch the bus. Sometimes he’d try to do some of the prep work before she shooed him away with her spatula.

“I hope it’s to your liking,” Ace said, presenting four golden crepes—thin and crispy—filled with chopped strawberries, blueberries, and bananas, covered in powdered sugar with a drizzle of chocolate, beside them there was a cup of tea and a small serving of maple syrup.

“I will say it is ironic Chloe taught you how to cook,” Gavin said after a deliberate chew, “It’s a basic skill for all humans, but you’re not human, and this isn’t basic,” he continued, motioning to the photo-ready plate.

“You shouldn’t not learn something simply because it doesn’t benefit you,” Ace said, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning forward, “you’re obviously enjoying my unnecessary skill.” His voice dropped an octave, almost like a tease if one was looking hard enough.

Gavin’s cheeks flushed red, his eyes going to his empty plate as if it’d betrayed him. Of course, he was enjoying it, good food shouldn’t go to waste. Maybe it was the way he enjoyed it, getting far too personal with his employer, enough that he was more familiar with this kitchen than his own.

“I guess you’re right,” Gavin conceded, stabbing the stray piece of strawberry, and shoving it in his mouth, hoping it’d keep him quiet and pacify his tongue so he wouldn’t embarrass himself further.

“I find myself in that position quite often,” Ace said, his smirk handsomely infuriating.

Gavin rolled his eyes, finding Ace’s confidence grating and on the wrong side of arrogant. He hopped off the stool, making his way to the feeding room, the itch in his wrist coming back with a vengeance. Not feeling like waiting an hour for the medicine to kick in or chancing an impromptu nap, he forwent the Benadryl, sitting in his spot on the couch. 

“No chess today?” the vampire asked, still in good humour.

“Maybe later,” Gavin said, uncrossing his arms.

“I won’t have time later,” Ace admitted, taking his own seat, “I’ve been invited to guest lecture this evening.”

“On a Saturday?” Gavin asked, making a face. He extended his arm, the motion becoming a reflex, ingrained in his muscle memory.

“It’s optional, free to those interested in robotics,” Ace said, adjusting his jaw before letting his pushy fangs fall free from his gums, “you’re welcome to come if you’d like,” he said as an afterthought, smiling when Gavin scoffed, biting him in the middle of his rebuttal.

“No offence, but that’s not something I...” Gavin took a deep breath, the rest of his sentence eluding him, until it came back in a shock, “not something I’m interested in.”

Ace chuckled, the low rumble vibrating up Gavin’s arm, “I figured,” he managed to say through a mouthful.

“I mean, I’d go...I’d go if you wanted me to...” Gavin struggled to say, his eyes closing on their own accord, “if you wanted...” He trailed off before his head fell backwards, pressing into the cushions like a heavy ball. His last thoughts revolved around asking if he’d taken the Benadryl on accident.

When he came to, it was to the soft shake of his shoulder, to a voice—deep and rough like gravel—pulling him steadily through his stream of subconsciousness and into the wakeful world. He groaned, curling away from the noxious stimuli to chase the warmth of dreamland once more.

“Gavin,” Ace said with some finality to his tone, forcing his donor to open an eye and look at him, “you said to wake you if you ever fell asleep, wake up.”

Gavin did as he was told, looking at him through bleary eyes before he asked, “How long was I out this time?”

“Almost long enough to make me late for my lecture,” Ace said, adjusting his cufflinks. He’d changed into an even darker outfit, the maroon of his dress shirt contrasting with the white of his skin like pop-art. “I waited until I realized you wouldn’t wake up naturally.”

“How considerate,” Gavin rolled his eyes, cranky that such a peaceful sleep had been interrupted.

“I was only following orders, Gavin,” Ace said, inadvertently ruining his slicked-back hair when he ran his fingers through it, “your orders, might I add,” he said, frustration hardening his tone as he tried to salvage what he could of his comb-over.

“I know, dammit,” Gavin said, standing and stretching, “just leave your hair like that, it looks better anyway.” He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but Ace’s twitchy meddling got on his nerves.

The vampire’s hands froze, dropping to his sides in a slow descent. He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, idling before he looked at his watch again. “If you don’t plan on going to the lecture, I suggest you leave now,” Ace said, “I’ll be leaving in a few moments.”

“Fine,” Gavin said, hesitating by the door. It would be nice to get out of the house, to do something that wasn’t as menial as watching videos online. Robotics was interesting, right? “How long’s the lecture?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant and failing when an unknown blush crept up his neck.

“Only an hour or so,” Ace said, ignoring the weird twist in his chest, “with questions, maybe a little longer.”

“I guess I’ll go,” Gavin said, “but I’m going just like this,” he continued, motioning to his jeans, black boots, and leather jacket.

“Wouldn’t want you any other way,” Ace said, hoping his affinity for the sarcastic lilt would mask the sincerity of his statement. Gavin’s abrasive nature had a learning curve, but with enough time anyone could learn to navigate it—maybe it required a little motivation and what better motivator than food?

He let Gavin go ahead, preparing his papers and double-checking he had the file on both his laptop and USB. By the time he had everything in one neatly packed briefcase, ready to go, Gavin stormed back into the foyer, his face a mixture of panic and exasperation.

“Do you know anything about cars?” Gavin asked before Ace could say a word.

“A little bit,” the vampire said, severely understating his abilities. It was by reflex alone that he caught the keys thrown at his head, looking at the beat-up key fob with a raised brow. “Gavin, I don’t have time—”

“It’s making this awful _tk-tk-tk-tk-tk_ noise and I have no idea how to fix it,” Gavin interrupted, rubbing his temples. He’d had his eyes on a new car since the bucket of bolts—that was far more reliable than it should’ve been—was on its last leg. It may have been his fault he regarded the ever-present check-engine light as an accessory more than a warning. As luck would have it, now it wouldn’t start, some error Gavin was too ignorant to understand spitting back at him from the dash. “Please help.”

Ace sighed, putting down his briefcase, and following Gavin to his old sedan. “Sounds like a belt issue,” he mumbled, as he tried the engine, “when’s the last time you took this in for maintenance?”

“Maintenance?” Gavin repeated with a snort, “my mom paid two-thousand dollars for this car, I only take it in for an oil change and maybe get its tires rotated—if it's included.”

Ace kept his comments to himself, popping the hood before he rounded to the front of the car, thankful for the shade when the sun burst through the clouds. “Try the engine again,” he instructed, watching the poor car struggle to even do that. “Okay, you can stop,” he said lowering the hood.

“So, is it the belt?” he asked, latching on to the one thing that’d been said.

“It’s more than the belt, you’ve got a power steering leak, your engine oil level is nearly non-existent, and when’s the last time you replaced the air filter?” Ace asked, Gavin’s ignorance and severe neglect affecting him on a personal level.

“Speak English!” Gavin snapped, regretting it when Ace narrowed his eyes, a warning if he’d ever seen it. “Sorry, I just don’t know what any of that means, can you fix it?”

“Didn’t your father ever teach you—”

“No, he didn’t,” Gavin said, interrupting the question before the vampire completed it. The last thing he needed was for yet another man to ask him why he didn’t know how to do basic ‘manly things.’

Ace let it drop, going back inside to wash his hands, “With enough time I could fix it, but not now,” he said, answering Gavin’s question.

“Goddammit,” Gavin cursed, rubbing his temples, “I can’t leave if I don’t have a car,” he said, explaining the obvious.

“I can take you home after the lecture—if you still want to go,” the vampire offered, “alternatively, I could call a cab.”

“So that I can stay stuck at home? No thank you,” Gavin said, shaking his head, “I’ll wait for you to finish.”

“Very well.”

Gavin followed the vampire to one of his non-descript black cars, luxurious and sleek but in a minimalist way the other vintage cars lacked. He felt like the epitome of a stain when he sat on the passenger side, keeping himself as small as possible to decrease the impact he had inside Ace’s expensive car.

The engine—or lack thereof when he realized it was electric—hummed, no louder than the air conditioning. A soft arrangement of strings floated through the speakers, making the silence bearable. They actually passed his apartment complex on their way to Michigan University, the blur of his building disappearing in the rearview mirror.

He hadn’t been back to school since he graduated, not caring for the place that’d put him so severely in debt and awarded him a useless degree. In his four years, he’d memorized many paths and shortcuts to the main hall, he could see some now, reminding him of the stress of trying to get to class on time. He didn’t miss being in school, debt or not, it was the longest four years of his life.

Ace turned into the building specifically reserved for the professors’ cars, slotting himself into a space that had his name.

“VIP much,” Gavin commented when the vampire shut off the car.

“I’ve told them to take it down, but they won’t listen,” Ace said, grabbing his briefcase, “I too believe it’s a bit much.”

Gavin chewed his bottom lip, whishing his penchant for presumptions weren’t as influential on his tongue. At least the vampire hadn’t taken offence, too distracted with last-minute fixes on his outfit to listen to him. Gavin followed him out of the car, wondering if he minded being trailed.

Ace was a professor—he wasn’t even truly employed.

“So, what should I call you?” Gavin joked despite his mounting anxiety, “Doctor Professor Richardson, Professor Doctor?”

“Only if you ask a question,” Ace said, “and I think it’s the highest degree first, so it’d be Doctor.”

“Okay,” Gavin said, feeling inadequate as people began to recognize the vampire. He hung back, letting the man catch up with colleagues whilst he played the waiting game.

“What a pleasant surprise,” a familiar voice said, her face immediately coming into view, “how are you, Gavin?” Chloe asked, taking him by the arm, aborting his escape.

“Better than yesterday,” he admitted with a bright blush, “what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I never miss any of Ace’s lectures,” she said, “you have to see him when he’s passionate about something—he’s a completely different person.”

Gavin supposed he’d just have to take her word for it, following her as he was into the lecture hall. The bright fluorescent lights brought back memories of taking his mid-terms and finals, the lingering anxiety of that time gripping him with more force than was considered fair.

Chloe led them closer to the middle back, watching as other professors and over-achieving students shook the vampire’s hand. He’d severely underestimated people’s interests in extra-curricular lectures, as one by one the seats filled until there were only a few empty chairs near the very back.

An older, balding gentleman introduced Ace as Doctor Richardson, orating his achievements and accolades—of which he had plenty—finishing with a standing ovation. The rest of the lecture hall followed deafening Gavin with their intensity.

The backlights were shut off, putting the spotlight on the front, Ace’s presentation projected on three screens to span the length of the auditorium. He began with a rhetorical question, answering it with his next sentence. His voice was clear and far-reaching without the aid of a microphone. Gavin found himself listening more to how he was speaking as opposed to what he was saying.

The second round of applause startled him into clapping, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. Two hours passed in a minute—he had to double-check his phone to verify that it indeed was the time the giant overhead clock read.

“Any questions?” Ace asked, rubbing his eyes. Dozens of hands shot up at once, some flapping their insistence to catch his attention, others patient as he made his way through the auditorium.

Though Gavin had no idea what ‘adjusting the matrices’ meant, it was obvious that whoever got the answer found it helpful. It was the same for everyone else, a third impromptu round of applause dispersing through the crowd.

The lights were returned to their full brightness, making Gavin squint. People began to scatter, some taking the opportunity to shake Ace’s hand again, and others going to the promised refreshments outside of the hall. Chloe dragged him out of his seat, settling herself beside Ace.

“That was wonderful, as always,” she complimented, hooking her arm around his to save him from any other interruptions to his departure.

“Thank you,” Ace said, massaging his temples.

“I know, they gave you three standing ovations,” Chloe said, taking Ace’s hand into her own, her smile faltering when she felt his skin, “Ace you’re as cold as ice,” she said, using friction to try and warm him up.

“Am I?” Ace said, unable to note the difference.

“Yes,” Chloe said, touching his face, wincing at his cool skin, “you weren’t outside today, were you?”

“Only for a few minutes,” Ace admitted, cowering under her reprimanding stare.

“Ace—” Chloe cut herself off, digging through her purse for the UV meter. She held it close to the vampire, surprised to find it read higher away from him. Her eyes narrowed, pointing the probe towards the fluorescent lights, her eyes going wide. “It’s the lights,” she exhaled, putting the meter away, “we have to get you out of here.”

Chloe walked faster in heels than Gavin could run, maneuvering the halls with practiced ease whilst he tried to keep up. “Is everything okay?” he asked once he was beside her.

“No, it’s not,” Chloe said, spotting her car a few steps away—it was the black SUV with the even darker windows, “that auditorium is a deathtrap, why didn’t they test the lights before they put you in there?” she asked, putting Ace in the passenger seat.

“How are they supposed to know?” the vampire grumbled, his headache now a migraine pounding against the sides of his skull.

“Dammit,” Chloe cursed, starting the engine, and pulling out of the parking lot. Gavin wasn’t even sure if she’d noticed him enter the backseat, preoccupied as she was.

“Chloe, what’s happening?” he asked, feeling severely out of the loop.

“Gavin!” she exclaimed, giving merit to his theory, “ _merde_ , I almost forgot you were here,” she said, putting some pressure on the brakes. “He’s got UV poisoning” —she continued in the next breath— “it lyses a vampire’s blood, making it unusable.”

“Lyse?”

“Breaks it apart, think mini-explosions to every red blood cell,” she explained, gesturing with a hand, “I didn’t notice at first because he seemed so normal—you must have fed today,” she said, murmuring to herself.

“He did, I was trying to make up for yesterday,” Gavin said, the lonely voice in the backseat.

“Thank you, Gavin,” she said, her bottom lip quivering, “I think you just saved his life.”

“Stop exaggerating, I’ll be fine,” Ace grumbled, petulant. It had both Gavin and Chloe turning to look at him, the older of the two feeling both hurt and offended. “Chloe, watch the road,” the vampire warned.

“I’m watching it,” she snapped, her foot itching to slam the gas pedal, “how about next time you test a room before entering it,” she chastised, her worry sharpening her tongue. Gavin’s mother was the same way, getting angry when he’d put himself in danger—whether he knew it or not. “The last time something like this happened we needed two _gallons_ of blood to get you anywhere near normal,” she reminded through her teeth, “so don’t lie.”

If Gavin weren’t so close to fainting, he’d ask where the hell someone found two gallons of blood with such short notice. “Are you gonna need me to donate again?” he asked, the idea of being drained dry making him nauseous.

“No Gavin, it’d be dangerous for you to give blood twice in one day,” Chloe said, putting a hard stop to his idea even though she’d considered it, “it’d be dangerous for a drudge too,” she said, absentmindedly rubbing her neck.

“So, what do we do?” Gavin asked, relief not as liberating as it’d once been when the prospect of death was knocking on their door.

“You’ve done enough already, darling, I’m gonna drop you off soon,” she said, smiling at him through the rearview mirror, “I should have some reserve blood in a freezer somewhere,” she continued, speaking to herself.

Gavin felt guilt curdle in his stomach like spoilt milk. If he hadn’t asked Ace to look at his car earlier, if he’d had just told him instead of demanded he looked while the sun still hung in the sky, he may not have been so weak against the fluorescent bulbs.

Chloe didn’t park the car when she approached Gavin’s complex, she waited for him to leave, expectant and impatient. But he didn’t, steadfast in his resolve to help. It was then that the itching started, startling and ardent, burning through his wrist like acid. The Benadryl was still in his pocket, but he doubted an allergic reaction was the cause of his sudden discomfort.

“I’d like to help,” Gavin said, to shut up his guilt if for nothing else.

Chloe’s eyes bugged out of her head, whirling back to meet Gavin’s determined stare. “No, Gavin, it’s dangerous,” she repeated, “you don’t produce enough blood.” Which was code for: _you’re not a drudge._

“How bad was the poisoning?” Gavin asked, trying to sound empathetic, but all she heard was his bullheadedness, his stubbornness, not unlike the vampire sitting next to her. 

“Not as bad as the last time, but any exposure to UV is unsafe,” Chloe said, her shoulders sagging. She withheld Ace’s handicap, thinking it best not to embarrass him in the middle of an emergency. The prematurity of his birth—the same one that’d malformed his venom glands—underdeveloped a few of his senses. He had no innate instinct to protect himself against the sun.

“Then we can at least try,” Gavin said, his wrist burning. “Some blood is better than no blood,” he tried to reason but no one would listen, both Chloe and Ace shook their heads, the vampire making a considerable effort to not look his way.

Chloe met his eyes again, her smile tight but sympathetic. “You’re a very kind man, Gavin, but I cannot ask you to do this—”

“You’re not asking me, I’m offering,” he interrupted, showing his wrist for emphasis. He jumped when she grabbed it, twisting it so she could take a closer look at it.

“This should have healed by now,” she said, almost as if accusing him of its existence. She pushed against the swollen skin, sending shockwaves up his wrist and down his arm. “Gavin, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were becoming his drudge.” She let go of his hand, looking between them, furrowing her neat eyebrows.

“You know that’s impossible,” the vampire grumbled, lowering his gaze to his shaking fist. He was trapped in the car with no escape from Gavin’s scent, it was through Chloe that he tried to see the world, her claimed scent a deterrent, a filter, and it worked about as good as paper did to block the dye that was Gavin bleeding through.

The gears were turning in Chloe’s head, her decision to continue her drive—with Gavin in the car—partly influenced by the selfishness of her maternal instincts. She just hoped this was a cosmic fluke, a purely allergic reaction to any and all venom, not the one in a million she’d hoped to find for Ace.

* * *

Before either of them could get out of the car, Ace was already speeding through the courtyard, and it was then Gavin realized why the Olympics were segregated. Chloe sighed, shutting off the engine, letting Gavin exit prior to locking it.

She didn’t seem to be in a hurry anymore, her stilettos clicking a steady _tik-tik_ like the beat of a clock. “We may grow older, but oftentimes childhood habits stay the same,” she whispered into the air, opening the front door.

The sound of it closing was like a nail on their proverbial coffin, sinking them into an awkward silence. Chloe led them upstairs, looking at Gavin more than her path. They took an immediate right, entering a large hallway which led to more rooms, bigger windows, expensive paintings. Gavin nearly forgot he was marching into the dragon’s den.

Chloe stopped in front of a set of large double doors, taking a deep breath before opening them. It was dark within the bed-chamber, the only light a solitary candle that struggled to reveal the creature within. Before Gavin could move, Ace’s head poked out of his cocoon, sniffing the air like a dog.

“Why did you bring him here?” the vampire accused, looking at Chloe with betrayal in his eyes, his throat dry, a fire being fed nothing but fuel.

“He wants to help,” Chloe reminded, standing at the threshold and not a step closer.

Ace shook his head, burying himself in his sheets, the beast inside of him latching on to Gavin’s scent, breathing deeply, losing itself in it. He growled, the sheets trembling with his full-body shudder.

“You should go home,” the vampire warned despite every cell in his body protesting that claim.

“I can’t, I was driven here,” Gavin replied, only now realizing his predicament.

Ace groaned, resurfacing from his bubble. Everything was swimming in his vision, if he moved too much, he felt nauseous, even the light of the candle was too bright. But the worst part was Gavin, a single whiff worked his venom glands into overtime. Had it not been for the weakness of his limbs, he’d have sunk his fangs into that beautiful jugular and—

Gavin’s relentless itching drew the vampire’s red eyes to his wrist, to that pink welt that seemed to bloom like a rose, and never wilt. He could feel the black veins around his eyes pop and pulse, surrounding his temples like vines.

“Please go,” Ace said, biting the inside of his cheek to curtail his frenzy. Though submissible in court, the last thing he wanted to do was break the trust he’d built between them during the last three weeks.

“Ace,” Chloe said, trying one last time.

“You should not have brought him here,” the vampire hissed, “if he gets hurt it will be on your conscience as well as mine.”

Gavin was being pulled back—Chloe’s arms strong enough to move him a few inches. If he let things play out naturally, she would’ve returned them downstairs, declared the whole plan a failure, and figured the rest out on her own. She might’ve even packed him a meal for his troubles. 

But as it stood, things didn’t always go as planned.

Gavin, though gentle when he did it, pushed her away and locked the door, his heart flipping inside out in his chest. She banged against the door, trying the lock to no avail.

“What are you doing?” Ace asked, panic rising in his tone, his irides bright red, “I told you to go,” he hissed, his fangs sharp and bared. Here was the monster Gavin had been taught to fear, the same one that’d carried his brother’s face as he pushed him out of the tree. It sometimes had his father’s face, the half-turn of his profile as he ignored his mother’s crying, packing his bags, promising they’d never see each other again.

Here it was now, and all he wanted to do was apologize.

“I didn’t know about the sun,” Gavin said, catching the vampire by surprise, “I didn’t know it did that to you, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you to look at my car. I... I’m sorry.”

Ace, through the haze of his hunger and sickness, managed to sit up, to meet Gavin’s eyes, steady despite the bitter fear in his scent. “The punishment does not fit the crime, Gavin, you’re risking your life standing there,” Ace said, white-knuckling his bedsheets to keep his mischievous hands to himself, “please. Go.”

“I want to help.”

“And I need you to _go_ ,” Ace said, making the mistake of taking a deep breath, “dammit Gavin,” he growled, getting up in a flash. He grabbed the stubborn man, pushing him towards the locked door. His intent was to open it and throw him through it, but he kept catching his scent, heard the steady beat of his heart.

Ace’s fangs quivered, extending past their normal point, priming themselves to bite into a larger vessel. “Why didn’t you go?” the vampire lamented, dipping his head into the crook of Gavin’s neck, soaking up his scent.

It was as rhetorical a question as they came, yet Gavin managed to swallow through the tightening of his throat and answer. “I don’t like owing anyone anything,” he paused, turning his head, “part of this was my fault, so.”

“You didn’t know about the lights,” Ace rumbled against him, panting into his skin, he couldn’t stop the inevitable, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t try to slow it down. “None of us did.”

“Then it was an accident,” Gavin said, feeling like a band that’d been stretched past its breaking point. “Please just feed and get it over with, I’m giving you permission so just bi—”

“Shh.” Ace said, quick as his hand came to rest across Gavin’s mouth, cutting off the rest of his sentence before he truly came to regret what had already been implied. He felt Gavin’s shudder as his own, exposing their closeness. Through their discourse they’d gravitated towards the door, Chloe’s pounds on the thick hardwood causing it to vibrate but never budge.

“I’m sorry,” Ace managed to apologize, unable to help how he pressed Gavin into the woodgrain, his cool body gelling well with Gavin’s overheated skin. He tried to step away, but all his muscles seemed stuck in place, including the hand he still had covering Gavin’s unruly mouth. “I wish I had more strength to resist, but every second that passes makes it harder not to accept your _help_.”

Gavin’s body erupted with goosebumps, Ace’s admission making the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge. He wouldn’t even acknowledge how close they were, how Gavin felt the vampire’s breath hitch with each hard thud of his heart, how his hair brushed against his cheek, smelling of lilac and chamomile, felt the desperation in each of his words, the friction of his body as he pressed ever tighter.

Fear seemed more of an option at the moment. He should have been terrified, truly, he had a vampire with _very sharp teeth_ hovering over one the largest vessels in his body and yet, Ace’s resistance to bite him—whether because of morals or principles or just plain stubbornness—was enough to calm his fight-or-flight to a slow trickle of adrenaline.

Gavin tugged Ace’s arm, surprised it even shifted with how firm it felt against his mouth. “I’ll forgive you if you forgive me,” he breathed, feeling light-headed.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Gavin,” Ace reassured, saliva sliding down his throat like sandpaper with each swallow.

“Then I’ll forgive you,” the donor grumbled, negotiating a dead deal.

“I—”

“I’ll forgive you,” Gavin promised, twisting around so he met Ace’s red eyes. The vampire looked away, hiding his shame from the world, from Gavin’s prying nature. “You better accept before I start thinking there’s something wrong with my blood,” Gavin teased, poking Ace in the chest.

There was no stopping his insistence, not without Ace physically removing himself, which he’s already proven is impossible to do in his current state. So, Ace nodded, defeated. “I won’t be able to use your wrist, or I’ll blow your blood vessels if I do,” he admitted, his eyes still downcast, fangs overcrowding his mouth to the point where humiliation had etched itself across his forehead.

“Use what you need,” Gavin said, his heart in his throat at the implications of Ace’s words. At least the vampire’s hands were gentle when they moved his chin up and out of the way, exposing his neck like he often did his wrist.

Ace was quick to strike, sinking his fangs as deep as they would go. It was different from their normal feeds, primal, Ace was feeding out of fear, each suck and swallow followed by a hard shudder like he’d collapse if he let go. He held Gavin close, keeping him in place, dumping more venom into his donor’s system, tasting how it’d sweetened Gavin’s blood, a definitive sign they’d reached equilibrium.

Gavin seemed to slip from his grip, growing heavy and loose against him, but Ace couldn’t stop feeding, his own body far from cured.

It wasn’t for the lack of trying, however, there wasn’t an ounce of his consciousness that wanted this to continue, to find himself sucking dry a dead body. But evolution had not ignored his need to survive, not like it had other parts of him.

It’d made him a parasite dressed in a very expensive suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a hard one to re-write, but I believe it shows the major differences between OLD and NEW versions. Whereas Ace is terribly dumb in the OLD, here it truly is an accident, some of it is Gavin's insistence they go outside while it's still sunny out, but most is the UV in the bulbs, which is totally a thing BTW, though possibly not as extreme as I made it seem. 
> 
> Yes, they're both stubborn, yes it makes it hard to write, but dammit if it isn't nice to crack a few rocks once in a while.
> 
> Are they still being stupid... sometimes. 
> 
> Also, Mourning couture is a pun on Morning couture, get it, cuz it's morning. lol


	6. Guilty Pleasures

Gavin rubbed his sore neck as he watched Ace write him a check for ten-thousand dollars. He swore to god that it was a mistake, that the vampire wasn’t going to pay him nearly a fourth of his salary in one night as an apology. Ace looked up multiple times, guilt like a puppy playing fetch on his features.

“Do you require more? I’m unsure if monetary compensation will ever be enough for what I put you through,” Ace said, his fingers trembling as he clutched the quill. (Surprise, surprise, the vampire had a few stereotypes up his sleeve.)

“Yes, you should pay him much more,” Chloe interrupted before Gavin could answer, her knuckles raw where she’d splintered the wood. “I still can’t believe—”

“I know, Chloe,” Ace said, disrupting her rant. He’d already belittled himself—he didn’t need another round from his mother-figure.

“I just think it’s a bit much,” Gavin admitted, stifling a yawn.

Chloe looked at him, trepidation making her hesitate. Ace had been out of the clear for half an hour now, his face bright pink, his eyes blue, not a trace of UV on his person. It was Gavin she worried about, his pupils hadn’t dilated once despite them being in the low light, there was a haze over his eyes, and he spoke slowly like he was thinking of each word before he said it.

“Be that as it may, compensation is part of your contract and—” Chloe began, interrupted yet again by the protesting rumbles coming from Gavin’s stomach. The donor slow blinked at his own body, then returned his gaze to Chloe, an apology hanging on his tongue but not quite making it out of his mouth before she said, “I’ll go cook something.”

“Thank you, Chloe,” Ace said. She nodded once leaving with a quiet huff.

The vampire voided the current check, flipping to another blank note before meeting Gavin’s dazed gaze. “Ace,” Gavin began, “you and I must be experiencing things very differently if you think a little bit of pain is worth ten-thousand dollars.” If Gavin were in his right mind, he’d be hamming up his discomfort, but as it stood, there was not a bone in his body that wanted to protest what had happened.

He was probably high. (He was most definitely high.)

“It’s not just the pain, Gavin, and you know that,” Ace said, running a hand through his brown curls.

“You two made it sound like I was gonna die,” Gavin said, flicking his finger against the rosewood, “I’m not dead,” he continued, pinching himself, “at least I don’t think I am.”

“Gavin,” Ace said, speaking with care, “you could’ve died. Putting you in danger was not a part of our contract,” he reminded, adding another zero to the check. “Consider it a donation, for saving my life,” he said pushing the paper in Gavin’s direction.

“That’s a hundred thousand,” Gavin said after an embarrassing moment of thought.

“Please take it, god knows I don’t need it,” Ace insisted, shaking his head, “give it away if you must but don’t let it stay with me—not after tonight.”

Gavin pocketed the check without another word, unable to quantify how much money he’s just received, not whilst his brain felt pleasantly empty.

Ace lowered his eyes to the desk, listening to the distant grandfather clock chime five o’clock. “Chloe will probably take you home,” he said, using his quill to sign the bottom of a long piece of paper, “and if you’ll sign here, we can terminate our contract so nothing like this ever happens again.”

“I’m not signing that,” Gavin said, crossing his arms, “not when I can’t think straight, at least,” he amended, sure he’d change his mind in the morning—or later on today.

“Fair,” Ace said, folding the paper and stashing it away in his desk.

“I’m gonna go eat food now,” Gavin said, tearing his eyes from the vampire, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Gavin—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated, dead serious.

And Ace had no choice but to comply.

* * *

Gavin, in the height of his euphoric phase, didn’t see a problem eating Chloe’s cooking with his hands despite having access to utensils. Her face was a constant canvas of concern, watching his every move like he’d hurt himself if she looked away.

“You’re a great chef,” Gavin said through a mouthful, drying his hands on the tablecloth, “sorry,” he apologized—a reflex.

Chloe put down her fork and knife, her appetite postponed. “Gavin,” she began, handling the man with kid gloves, “I think it’s time we get you home,” she suggested.

“That’s a great idea, you’re full of great ideas,” Gavin said, slow blinking at Chloe, “I’m just full.” She nodded along, leaving her food for later. With patience born from experience, Chloe ushered Gavin through the front door and led him to her SUV, ducking his head for him so he wouldn’t bump it in his mindlessness.

At least his most basic self-preservation skills were intact, as all he did was play with the window button, fascinated when the cool air of early morning blew his hair backwards. She feared his comedown more than she did his current high, knowing withdrawal would kick his ass.

“Enjoy it while you can, Gavin,” Chloe murmured, returning her eyes to the road.

Gavin was fast asleep when they reached his apartment, only waking through Chloe’s gentle insistence. He rubbed his neck, subconsciously pressing against the ghost of Ace’s bite mark, whilst they walked to his apartment. The skin was warmer than the rest, tender like his wrist had been after that first feed. He wasn’t sure if it was because it was a larger blood vessel or because Ace had been unrestrained, but the warmth spread deeper into his shoulder, settling near the edges of his chest.

He closed his eyes, fingering the mark, startling when a second set of hands pressed against it. “Dammit Ace,” Chloe cursed, shaking her pretty blonde hair. She busied herself by preparing some ginger tea, having had the foresight to bring it with her before they left. It’d ease some of Gavin’s gastric discomfort as he withdrew.

Chloe pushed a mug into Gavin’s hands, making sure to have cooled it beforehand. “Drink it slowly,” she advised, taking sips of her own tea. Gavin did as he was told, looking at her for more advice.

“You know, it’s funny,” Chloe said, finding not an ounce of mirth in the situation, “I keep thinking you’re turning into his drudge, you’ve got all the tells,” she admitted, gripping her mug in frustration. “We’ve had over three centuries to search, hundreds of people to vet, and dozens of tests to confirm that yes—Ace is incapable of making drudges,” she pointed out, talking more to herself than to Gavin, “yet here you are.”

“Yet here I am,” Gavin hummed, anxiety threatening to cross the border of his euphoria and finding itself effectively stopped.

“Would it be bad of me to wish it were so?” she asked, her blush colouring her cheeks a lovely shade of red, at least her wife would think so. She looked away, at a loss for words.

Gavin’s brows rose to meet his hairline as he swallowed a mouthful of tea. He was aware enough to know what she wished should not come to pass. “Chloe—”

“It would solve so much,” she sighed, lost in the fantasy, “he might even have a chance at reconciliation.” She whispered the last part, thinking it best not to mention anymore, lest Gavin get curious and start probing her sleep-deprived mind.

“All done,” Gavin said, putting his mug in the sink, “what now?” he asked, his voice not as dreamy, his pupils finally reacting to the light.

“Do you think you’ll be okay without me for the next few hours?” she asked, concern giving way to exhaustion. It’d been a rough night, her nails now nubs where she’d bitten them to the quick. She’d been in a panic for many minutes, debating whether calling the police would change the outcome of their situation. It wasn’t until Ace had unlocked the door—his red face apologetic but relieved—that she calmed down, enough to let go of the fear that her son had become a killer.

And then she saw Gavin, and a new fear began.

“I’ll be fine, Chloe,” he reassured, even as he missed her shoulder when he tried to pat it, “I’ll be fine,” he repeated.

“Please call me when you feel better,” she said, hoping he regarded her concern with more than a pinch of salt, “or worse.”

“Will do,” Gavin promised, waiting until she was gone to strip, his clothes far too constricting over his skin. His whole body itched and twitched like it’d been exposed to a live wire. He walked to the bathroom, doing a double-take at the large red mark covering his entire shoulder. Touching it had been a bad idea, as the flesh cried its discontent, tender as it was.

Gavin hissed, clarity coming to him in waves. They couldn’t have been joined for more than a few minutes. Time had been bottled in a glass jar that’d shattered in an instant. He remembered Ace’s hands—one pressed into the hardwood beside his head and the other on his hip, anchoring them. The vampire had been cold, his body leeching both Gavin’s warmth and his life, it was a disconcerting thought that had him cranking up the heat in the shower.

He was well and truly trapped at that moment, at the mercy of four needles and his internal blood supply. It could be that he was still there, dying a slow death, whilst Ace whispered apologies into his skin.

Gavin finished his shower, worry a shadow over his head. He couldn’t even manage a bite of a sandwich, preoccupied with figuring how to recover the shambles of his psyche. There was only one person he could trust with a dilemma like this, he just hoped she wouldn’t mind an unfortunate trip down memory lane.

“Gavin, my sweet child, how are you?” Ms. Reed asked, her tone sleepy. She’d been in the middle of finishing the last episode of her show, curled in a warm blanket with Kitty and Catie.

Gavin felt bad disturbing her, but if he hung up now it’d be a waste of her time and a call. “I have a question about dad,” he said, cutting through the preamble.

“Okay,” Ms. Reed replied slowly, all semblance of sleep evaporating in that one not-so-simple request, “I’m listening.”

“I don’t exactly remember when this happened, I must’ve been five or six, before...” he said, knowing she knew what he meant, “we were at a picnic and dad would always avoid the sunnier parts of the park,” he continued, “did he ever burn in the sun, mom? Did he ever make you fix that?”

“It was my duty, wasn’t it?” she said, her smile a sad one, “I loved him, I wanted to believe he loved us. We lived like husband and wife even though we weren’t, like drudge and vampire even though we couldn’t,” Ms. Reed admitted, something in her heart breaking. “He never made me do anything, Gavin. Your father may have been a cheater, but he respected my boundaries.”

“So, you wanted to be his drudge?” Gavin asked, finding the information hard to swallow.

“I wanted to be his everything, and hoped he’d reciprocate,” she said, being quite frank, “having you was the happiest moment of my life, you were proof of our love.”

“But he left anyway,” Gavin reminded.

“But he left anyway.”

“I didn’t mean to bring him up again, mom, I just—I was thinking about it,” Gavin apologized, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

“It’s okay, honey, it’s been long enough that the pain has dulled,” she said, rubbing Kitty behind the ears.

“Did you ever forgive him?” Gavin asked, knowing his own answer.

“You remember what I taught you about lying?” she asked with a little laugh.

“Only do it if you’ll never get caught,” he said, which has served him well over the years.

“Exactly,” Ms. Reed said, leaving it at that, “I love you, Gavin.”

“Love you too, mom,” he said, hanging up the phone with more questions than he had answers and wounds that’d reopened in his haste to answer the questions he had asked.

* * *

“We’re here,” the cabbie said, the toothpick in his mouth switching to the opposite side. He’d been prompted to speak when Gavin remained seated despite being parked for the last minute.

“Right,” Gavin said, shaking his head. It was still early—he couldn’t be faulted if he dozed off. He exited the car, looking at his own like one did a dying dog, listening to the cab driver give his farewell and leave him in the driveway.

Gavin pressed a hand on his shoulder, the flesh just as irritated as it’d been yesterday, fear and duty piercing his indecision like bullets. A singular light flicked on like a quest marker, guiding him towards the front door. He clutched the handle, willing the tremble in his hands to abate—the danger was over, emergency resolved. There was no need to feel so paranoid.

The door opened—dragging him with it—Ace stood on the other side, catching him before he fell. Gavin froze, holding his breath, doing a headcount on his faculties. His fingers clutched Ace’s forearms, leaving semi-lunar indents on his exposed flesh, his head had bumped into his chest, now resting above his heart.

The vampire’s heart beat slow, possibly at half the speed of a normal adult human, Gavin was too focused on his own hammering heart to count.

“Good morning,” Ace said, carefully maneuvering out of their impromptu embrace. He looked better than he had on his bed, but the bags under his eyes had grown, and the sharpness of his cheekbones was emphasized in the low light. That and he wasn’t in his usual three-piece ensemble, dressed instead in an old shirt and oil-stained overalls, a utility belt hanging around his waist.

“Morning,” Gavin grumbled, straightening himself out, “what are you wearing?” he asked, with possibly the most unamused tone he could conjure.

“My work clothes, believe it or not,” the vampire said, flashing a smile. Gavin half expected his fangs to fall into view, their points to glint in the low light. But it didn’t happen, and that anticipatory anxiety dissipated uncomfortably in the crook of Gavin’s neck.

“Should I have come later, or...” Gavin looked away, his hands useless fists at his side.

“How are you meant to go anywhere without a car?” Ace asked, motioning to the bucket of bolts sitting in his driveway, “here,” he said, handing Gavin the jack and scooter that’d been sitting beside him. “Might as well learn something,” the vampire said over his shoulder walking through the front door.

Gavin scoffed but followed, juggling the supplies in his arms. “Aren’t you worried about the sun?” he asked, looking at the still-night sky.

“We’ve got an hour or so before sunrise,” Ace said, digging through his utility belt for his headlight, “you’ll warn me before then, right?” he asked, not waiting for an answer whilst he took the jack from Gavin’s hands, shoving it under the car, and pumping it until he had a big enough hole to squeeze through.

Taking the scooter next, he sat on it, rolling beneath the car. “My goodness Gavin, have you seen the bottom of your car?” he asked, his voice muffled by the metal.

Gavin felt like kicking him—hadn’t he already explained himself? “No,” he said instead, gritting his teeth.

“When they salt the roads you must frequently wash the underside of your car, or it’ll rust,” the vampire said, his tone on the wrong side of chastising, “I’m surprised your foot hasn’t gone through the floor.”

Gavin did kick him then, earning a chuckle for his efforts. “Pardon me if I offended you,” Ace said before rolling back out, “but cars aren’t just machines you drive to and fro, they require maintenance, care, their parts need to be replaced _before_ they break down, oils changed, fluid levels checked—you risk losing it to the elements if you don’t.”

“I don’t have money for all that,” Gavin snapped, feeling his face grow hot with every reprimand.

“You do now,” Ace said, standing and flicking off his light, “however, this car’s not worth salvaging, you’re better off junking it and buying a new one. Preferably electric if you’re not willing to keep up with the maintenance.”

“Well since you’re such a fucking expert, why don’t you get me the car?” Gavin spat—his arms crossed tight over his chest. His mother always said he got defensive when being shown the error of his ways.

Ace paused to think about it, rubbing his chin. “If that’s what you want,” he said, meeting Gavin’s grey eyes in the relative darkness of the night, even the moon had gone into hiding, preparing the sky for the subsequent sun.

“I-I mean, you don’t—” Gavin bit his lip, feeling like he’d ramble his way into an early grave if he wasn’t careful, “I wasn’t being serious,” he managed to say, his gaze dropping to his boots.

“I am,” Ace said, moving closer and freezing when Gavin took a reflexive step back, “think of it as another apology, for insulting your car.” He walked away, ignoring the sting of Gavin’s renewed fear. It was only to be expected, he’d made him pretty helpless last night.

The vampire tried not to think about it but doing that was precisely what made him think about it, had his fangs showing interest, his venom dripping from them in an uncomfortably eager way. He’d meant to use today to fix Gavin’s car, not taking his inebriated promise of seeing each other tomorrow seriously. It’d be as simple as replacing the few parts that’d broken down into disrepair, perhaps tune the whole thing until the crank was more of a hum, but Gavin had his own plans.

Even if those plans seemed to intermingle with his fight-and-flight response.

He’d read it once before, how humanity would chase after their inevitable demise despite ample warning. Vampires didn’t have any natural predators, so their sympathetic pathways had evolved to promote self-control in high-stress situations. It’s why they made excellent lawyers and doctors (but perhaps not-so-great surgeons, blood was still blood).

His intent was still to terminate their contract, but he’d indulge Gavin’s heated request, even if it’d been wrought out of him through annoyance.

Ace returned to the foyer in more comfortable clothes, which was saying something considering it was one of his three-piece suits, fit to his measurements with only a few centimetres of allowance. Gavin always hated suits, avoiding them at every possible turn. He’d been thankful his graduation gown reached the floor—he didn’t know if he could stomach wearing an entire suit under there.

“Ready?” Ace asked, going to a panel on the wall, opening it to reveal the keys to his many cars.

“Do you have one for every day of the week?” Gavin mocked, the roll of his eyes touching the ceiling.

“How did you know?” Ace asked, feigning surprise.

“Figures,” Gavin grumbled with a click of his tongue, “rich assholes like you always have more than they need.”

“Is it my wealth with which you have a problem?” Ace asked, entertaining the idea of a good argument, “or your lack thereof?” He’d never spoken to anyone like this before, always having to toe the lines of curtesy and professionalism with expert footing. But Gavin was young, raw, and uninhibited—a diamond in the rough who resented the mere notion of a polish.

He didn’t know Ace from Adam—all he knew was what he saw and to look beyond that would be to cross lines that’d been marred by last night’s incident. Ace didn’t begrudge Gavin his snappy attitude, if anything it meant he was showing his true colours, and nothing motivated the soul into action like fear.

“I don’t need that much money,” Gavin said, feeling like he could never win against the vampire, whether it was chess or wills, he seemed to be one step ahead.

(He hadn’t been last night.)

Gavin shook his head, ignoring the odd twist in his chest, consoling himself by scratching that persistent itch on his wrist.

“Did it feel good to pay off your debts?” Ace asked, leading them to his vintage two-door roadster, the convertible top a perpetual fixture unless he was driving at night. He opened the door for Gavin, watching him make up his mind on whether to enter or answer first.

“I didn’t cash that check,” Gavin said, his natural eye-level reaching Ace’s tie, “I’m _not_ cashing that check,” he amended, looking up.

“I promise you it will not bounce,” Ace said, fighting the urge to smile.

“As I said, I don’t need that much money,” Gavin retorted, entering the car with a huff.

The vampire gave into his smile then, rounding the front of the car, and sitting in the driver’s seat before he said, “Stubbornness is seen as early as infanthood, where the child refuses to breathe despite all evolutionary drive begging it to do so,” he started the car, his eyes doing a singular sweep over Gavin, stopping when their gazes locked, “it’s like a self-serving poison, addicting in its own right.” The car began to move, accelerating past the trees, making them a blur.

“Seems you’re quite familiar with it,” Gavin said, playing with the hem of his leather jacket, “seeing how you refused to bite me despite your ‘evolutionary drive.’” It was now Gavin’s turn to look at the vampire in his entirety, knowing he struck a nerve when the other man went tense, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“Need I remind you you’ve started to flinch again,” Ace spat, his venom figurative. He almost wished he hadn’t said anything, it would have prevented the awkward bout of silence that succeeded his words.

The drive wasn’t terribly long, aided by the lights as they passed through the waking city of downtown Detroit. It reminded Gavin of early morning drives with his mom when they’d go on field trips or had to be at the airport at a certain time. The dealership peaked over the horizon—its bright bold letters caught his eye before the windows full of cars did.

It wasn’t until they were parked that Gavin thought to answer back, his voice soft and semi-remorseful. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“You weren’t being very subtle,” Ace said, his smile a grimace, “I know an apology will never be enough, but I am sorry that happened, Gavin.”

“So much for first impressions, right?” Gavin joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Not nearly as important as the last,” Ace said, turning off the car. If this were to be their final interaction, he’d like it to be an amicable one, bitterness tended to stick to the throat like stale taffy.

They exited the car in unison, the sun barely poking its rays into the dark sky. Ace had specifically chosen this dealership for its vampire-friendly design. All their windows were coated with UV repellant, their indoor gallery replicated the outdoor one, and they even had a serviceable testing track in the basement.

Gavin stuck closer to the vampire as they entered the building, feeling overwhelmed by the slick sheen covering every car, the twinkling chandeliers bouncing against the lacquer. He feared he’d break something if he looked at it wrong. No sooner was he debating turning around that they were surrounded by two employees wearing the same three-piece suits that seemed to be the norm for people who had over seven figures in their bank account.

“Good morning sirs,” the first of the two said, introducing himself as David and his partner River, “would you be interested in some refreshments?” he asked, pointedly looking at Gavin.

He shook his head, hiding behind the vampire like his mere presence could rub some class into his common clothes.

“Very well, did you have anything specific in mind, or were you just looking?” David asked, returning his eyes to the vampire.

“Just looking for now,” Ace said, answering for them, “we will call if we need any help,” he continued, the most effective dismissal Gavin had ever heard.

“Absolutely, please do,” David said, taking River with him. As quickly as they’d appeared, they disappeared, leaving Gavin and Ace in the middle of the gallery.

“How do you do that?” Gavin asked, relaxing enough to stand beside the vampire instead of behind him.

“Practice,” Ace said, motioning for Gavin to lead the way, “after you.”

Having had no previous experience at a dealership, Gavin started with the first car he saw, his brows brushing his hairline when he flipped the tag over. “Uh, Ace, I think this might be a little out of my price range,” he said, startling when the vampire pulled the card out of his hands.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ace said, keeping the tag out of reach, “just pick what you like.”

“I—” Gavin crushed his teeth together, fighting the kindness like it’d come out and bite him—which, considering who stood beside him, wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility. He shook his head, moving on to the next car.

None of them were particularly his style, far too mature for something he’d drive even if he _did_ have the money. They were halfway done with the first floor before he spotted a familiar black car, it stood in a lineup with other of its same make but he’d never forget the shape of it, how it’d grown smaller in the distance, becoming a dot before it disappeared for good. His feet carried him to it before he had a chance to think, his hands hovering over the paint, meeting his eyes in the black glass. He was taller now than he had been the last time he saw them like this.

“I’d like to see the inside,” Gavin said, feeling his jaw tighten.

“It’s not a bad choice,” Ace said, waving over the ever-present duo, “keys please,” he said, handing them to Gavin when they were presented to him.

Gavin hid the tremble in his fingers with a tight fist, climbing into the car before slamming the car door. He took a deep breath, feeling on the verge of a panic attack as he looked at the dials and buttons—even the leather was the same. He’d never gotten a chance to see it from this angle, it was always over a shoulder, or through the elbows, his little eyes only able to conceive a few shapes at a time.

This time he didn’t jump when Ace took a seat beside him, closing the door with a bit more care, letting Gavin think in peace. He could smell his anxiety as well as sense it, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention from the electric charge in Gavin’s emotions.

“My father used to drive this car,” Gavin admitted, gripping the steering wheel, “I always wanted to know what this felt like,” he said, absently running his hands around the circle.

“Used to?” Ace asked, hoping he wasn’t breaching a sensitive topic with his curiosity.

“I don’t know if he still drives it now,” Gavin said, side-eying the vampire, “I haven’t seen him since he drove off with it.” 

Ace knew rancour when he heard it, deciding it was best to leave well enough alone and let Gavin stew in whatever pot he’d gotten himself into.

“It is a nice car,” Gavin said after another moment of silence, “but I don’t want it,” he continued, exiting the vehicle, and tossing the keys to David. He put as much distance between him and the car as the building would allow, trying to scrub the bad taste from his memories.

“I’m sure you’ll find something,” Ace said, catching up to Gavin with ease, “if not, there are plenty more dealerships in Detroit.”

“I think you’re enjoying this,” Gavin said, less nervous now that the damned car was out of his sight.

“It’s not every day I get an excuse to buy something new,” Ace said, “and there are only so many days in the week.”

Gavin snorted, hating how that’d actually tickled him. “I’m just gonna close my eyes and pick a random one,” he said, proceeding to do just that. Beginning to slow turn, he stopped when he met resistance, his hands instinctively splaying out to feel what had interrupted his path. Gavin opened one eye, his cheeks growing warm when he realized what he was touching.

“Get out of my way,” Gavin grumbled, taking his hands off Ace’s chest. It’d be the second time in one day they’d touched on accident, an occurrence he hoped not to repeat any time soon. The vampire obliged his request, revealing behind him a pearlescent two-seater, its chrome grill shiny and wide like a set of teeth.

It would have to do.

“I guess I’ll take this one,” Gavin said, approaching the car, “are we allowed to drive it?”

“Of course,” David said, appearing from some random hole in the wall, Gavin was sure, “River, if you would.”

The second assistant fetched the keys, opening the passenger door for Gavin before entering the driver’s side. He did so just to drive it out of the dealership and into the outdoor track, seeming to know intrinsically that the early morning sun wouldn’t harm Gavin.

“All yours, sir,” River said, exiting out of the vehicle so Gavin could drive it.

Now that he had full control of it, he didn’t know what to do. The dash was elegant and simple, revealing a digitized speedometer, the amount of charge just to the right of it. He depressed the drive pedal, surprised by the instant torque. It took him a few false starts to get the hang of it, careful still to only drive about ten miles an hour.

By the time he finished two laps, Ace and David were standing behind the protective glass, watching Gavin waddle out of the car like a kid who’d been on his first roller-coaster.

“Ready to sign?” Ace asked when Gavin was within earshot.

“What?”

“Are you ready to sign?” Ace repeated, the smile on his face taking them both by surprise, “it’ll be all yours after that,” he admitted.

It was only then—after seeing River eye them with impressed envy—that Gavin realized how this looked. He wanted to defend himself, to say this wasn’t what it seemed, but he knew denying the fact that some rich benefactor was buying him a car purely as an apology was just as damning as anything else.

“Unless you didn’t like that one?” Ace said, mistaking Gavin’s silence for displeasure.

“It’s fine,” Gavin said, his eyes shifting around, looking for an exit, looking for _something_. “Do you have a bathroom by any chance?” he asked the duo, rushing to where they pointed. Lucky for him it was one of those private family bathrooms, clean and pristine like the rest of the place. It was a shame he had to empty his stomach through his mouth, ruining the porcelain bowl with his half-digested breakfast.

“Gavin,” that would be Ace, his knock polite even though his voice had a bit of a worried edge to it, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he managed to croak, using one of the fancy towels to wipe the spittle from his mouth, flushing the toilet and any evidence of his sick. He splashed some cold water on his face, trying to cool down enough to look semi-presentable. There’d be no wowing of the crowd tonight.

“Are you sure?” Ace pressed once they were face to face.

“I just wanna go home,” Gavin said, feeling twice his age, “where do I need to sign?” Ace led them to David’s office, the paper contract primed and ready for Gavin’s signature. At least there was no sign of River or his presumptive eyes.

“Do you feel well enough to drive?” Ace asked, walking Gavin to his new car, “I could have it shipped to—”

“Enough!” Gavin snapped, swallowing back his bile, “I’m not a charity case,” he reminded, unable to look at Ace.

“I never said you were,” the vampire replied, confused, “this is just an apology, a good last impression.”

That gave Gavin pause, forcing him to turn and meet Ace’s eyes. They stood beneath the veranda, the sun threatening its harmful rays with each passing second, creeping higher until there’d only be a thin layer of protection between them and it.

“Get in the car,” Gavin said, not wanting a repeat from yesterday. He was thankful he didn’t have to convince the vampire, driving them back to Ace’s parked car before he asked, “what do you mean ‘last impression?’”

“Our contract is finished, Gavin, I thought that much was obvious,” Ace said, “I’ve already sent the papers to Chloe, she’ll be finalizing them as soon as she has your signature.”

“But what about—”

“The rest of your pay is also with her—”

“I don’t give a damn about the fucking money,” a half-truth, but that wasn’t the point, “what did I do wrong?”

Ace’s eyes widened a fraction, sure he hadn’t heard Gavin correctly. “You’ve done nothing wrong, if anything I’ve been the impolite one,” the vampire said after a moment of deliberation, “despite your feelings of what transpired yesterday, I cannot bring myself to justify my actions any more than you care to vilify yours.”

“So that’s it then, you’re just gonna starve?” Gavin snapped, incredulous.

“I’ll be fine,” Ace said, his head cocked sideways like he was regarding the man for the first time, “you haven’t known me for very long, may I ask why you care?”

“I don’t care,” Gavin rushed out, sure he’d meant that at some point, “I just don’t like feeling like I failed.”

“You haven’t failed, I’m alive and well and you now have enough money to take care of yourself and your loved ones until you can find suitable employment,” Ace said, his tone final, “if anything I’d say you’ve hit the jackpot.” He went for the door handle, thinking their conversation was over, but Gavin had gone for his arm, forcing him to rethink that sentiment.

“If it’s all the same to you, I don’t want to be fired,” Gavin said, letting go of Ace, “please.”

“Would you like to quit?” Maybe it was a power thing.

“No, not really,” Gavin said, “who else am I gonna play chess with?”

Ace huffed a laugh, surprised that was the one thing Gavin remembered during their time together. Admittedly, it was the highlight of their relationship. “I’m sure you’ll do fine on your own,” Ace said, shooting him a reassuring smile.

The problem was, Gavin didn’t feel reassured, he felt beaten, rejected. It was a feeling with which he’d been acquainted most of his life. His father hadn’t wanted him, those dozens and odd jobs that pushed him to desperate measures hadn’t wanted him either. Now Ace was pushing him away too.

He was powerless to stop the vampire leaving just as he was the passage of time, which ticked its singular existence in his ears like the beat of his heart, as the breeze that blew through trees and ruffled the powerlines, as the sun that seemed at fault for his predicament.

If/then scenarios played in his mind, reminding him of his mistake and the million and one ways he could’ve _not_ fucked up.

If then, if then, if then.


	7. Everything in Moderation

Gavin shovelled another overflowing spoonful of ice cream into the deepest corners of his mouth, nearly choking around it as hunger savaged the recesses of his soul. He was bundled in his blankets, watching the dumbest things he could find on the internet. No amount of food seemed to satisfy the endless pit in his stomach, forcing him to buy in bulk items that should’ve lasted a few months. To top it all, he may have reached a ceiling with the Benadryl because it no longer alleviated the itching of his wrist and junction of his neck. He’d taken to wearing mittens so he wouldn’t scratch his way to the bone.

It wasn’t even a week since his premature termination and here he was, bulking up like he was going to war. Gavin hiccupped, nearly swallowing the spoon in his haste. He was a hormonal mess—it was puberty on steroids. Not even his fancy new car could stave off the worst of the sting.

Another pang drove through him, clawing at his neck like nails. There was no ignoring this feeling when it was everywhere. He’d heard of withdrawals before, but this was worse than anything he could’ve imagined. His fever made him hot, hunger made him desperate, and the itching had him wishing he could peel off his skin to reach the source.

Chloe had met him at his home, termination papers in hand and an apologetic look on her face. She held no judgement in her eyes, didn’t try to sway him one way or the other. He wasn’t sure if he were supposed to remember her words, _I keep thinking you’re turning into his drudge, you’ve got all the tells—_ _would_ _it be bad of me to wish it were so?_

Gavin shuddered but not at the thought, he feared she might be right. There was the constant, uncomfortable overflow of blood in his veins, how it rushed to his pulse sites and stayed there, pounding like a chagrined toddler. He hadn’t slept well the last few nights, tossing, and turning with anxiety that wasn’t entirely his own.

He took another comforting bite of the ice cream, shuddering as hunger pangs crashed into him. This forced him to contemplate his previous actions, the one that led to Ace’s dismissal of him. Had he not pushed him to feed, had he let him starve—or die—would the vampire have viewed him differently?

Maybe Ace hadn’t trusted himself to stop and what better way to prevent something from happening than to never let it repeat itself again. He’d never thought of how fragile his humanity was until he’d been pinned by the vampire, everything that powered his body flowing out of him and into someone else.

Their mutual fear of death had made them intimate, intrinsically wound up around each other until they were one.

He groaned into his spoon, shivering, and pressing hard into his neck; the area warmer than the rest of him. It jumped like a frightened creature and he sighed, air leaving him like a deflating balloon.

How much more of this would he have to endure?

* * *

Withdrawal made a person do funny things—some would even call it hilarious. At least Gavin thought so, or else he’d have to call it deplorable. It was week two of his firing (not that he’d been counting) and he’d blown through a surprising amount of money on food. If he were any sort of sane at the moment, he’d worry about what ingesting over ten-thousand calories a day did to his body, worry why he still hadn’t gained any weight. But as it stood, he was more preoccupied with creeping his car around Ace’s estate, hoping the low hum of the electric engine and the cut of the lights wouldn’t alert the vampire to his presence.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing here. Okay, that may be a little bit of a lie. He’d heard of vengeful employees stalking their ex-employers, planning their lives around their routes, memorizing their every move. This wasn’t what he was doing, however, this was just trying to test a theory, to see if the incessant itch would abate if he got closer to the one who’d caused it.

To no one’s surprise, it did.

Gavin’s nervous laugh startled him, but he couldn’t stop—didn’t—until he was crying. He closed his eyes, rubbing them to try and calm down, but there was no calming the hammering of his heart, the way his pulse thudded in his pulse sites. There was no way he was naming what this was out loud, much less thinking it.

What if he was wrong, you know?

He peeled out of the driveway, thankful for the clear road and the milky moon guiding his way back home.

* * *

The problem with _not_ thinking about it, however, is that you know what you’re not supposed to think about. It clings to the edge of your mind, to the tip of your tongue, you fear a slip if you’re not always on high alert.

He was on his third bowl of pasta when he was gripped by the knowledge of it, he’d been brushing his teeth when his neck gave an awful twinge and he’d been reminded of what he’d become.

_Potentially_ become, thank you very much.

It was a loop of seeing himself and fearing that it’d be written on his forehead as clear as it was burned in his mind, that people would see him and _know_.

Gavin never considered himself a social butterfly, but he wasn’t a recluse either, yet this... this had him locking his doors with an extra tight fist, had him looking over his shoulder like he’d committed a crime. He was waiting for something—or perhaps someone—to come and get him.

The only time he felt at peace was between the trees surrounding Ace’s estate. He’d taken to driving just close enough that the walk wouldn’t kill him, sitting by the tree line, watching, anticipating. But either he wasn’t bold enough or the birds on the branches weren’t cameras because no one approached to investigate. It should have been a relieving thought, but the quick bouts of despair that appeared like a flicker of lightning were enough to sour his mood.

The following week had him sitting in a tree, his childhood days flashing behind his eyelids. He saw exactly two cars—Chloe’s black SUV and a mini convertible. Gavin was too far away to make out the other person, but he knew it was his replacement. They came and went, just as he had—breaking his heart if he ever stopped to ask why it should.

By the third week, Gavin was ready to stop his quiet intrusion. The itching never ceased, but he’d have to learn to deal with it if he ever wanted any semblance of normalcy to return to his life. He’d spent more time against the tree-trunk than he had inside his home, a relentless toddler of an emotion keeping him there despite common sense. That had been one of the symptoms, right between the bouts of insomnia and low-grade fevers.

Just before he decided to hop down, the front door opened, the other donor stepping through. It was too early, far too early for them to have been done already. Gavin waited a few more minutes to see if they may have forgotten something, if they were going to go back, but they went to their car instead.

Gavin followed the convertible until it was just a dot, his attention drawing back to the door where the vampire stood. If he believed in supernatural coincidences, he’d say Ace was staring at him, that he could see him buried deep within the woods. But no, Ace closed the door a second later, his candle the only tell-tale sign that he’d resigned himself indoors.

For the second time that day, Gavin went to jump down, brushing his pants from the tree debris. The startling roar of an engine started somewhere behind the mansion, forcing him to hide behind the tree trunk, his heart doubling its speed.

It was just before sunrise, the black of the truck reflecting what little light it managed to catch. Ace backed up by his old junk car, getting out of the vehicle to attach the towing hooks to their corresponding holes. Gavin wouldn’t have been surprised if the car fell apart into a rusted heap once Ace started pulling. Luckily, it didn’t, instead, it was pulled into the truck-bed, a sad and decrepit little thing.

The vampire was probably gonna junk it, just as he said Gavin should. The ex-donor didn’t wait to see that, returning to his new car with an odd sense of disappointment.

No one else (except Chloe) came to visit Ace, and that was enough to give Gavin pause the upcoming days. He’d meant to stop coming himself, but this stalking thing had become routine, nearly ritualistic. 

Another week passed (had it been a month already?) and it found Gavin creeping closer to the estate. There’d been a threshold he’d mapped out where relief of his symptoms was instantaneous, safe enough from the wandering eye that he wouldn’t be caught. Today, that line had disappeared, forcing his hand—and his foot—to urge the car forward.

The mansion looked especially empty today, not a trace of the singular flickering candle, or the stray shine of an upper floor lightbulb, nor the flutter of the curtains from an open window. Nothing.

Even Ace’s cars had been taken to rapture.

Gavin rubbed his raw skin with his mitted hand, a lump in his throat making it hard to swallow as he exited the car. Doing his best impression of a shadow, Gavin tiptoed forward, his dominant hand shaking whilst he brought it to the knocker and gave a few pounds.

When there seemed to be no response for longer than was considered polite, he knocked again, his instincts telling him to give up—the vampire wasn’t home. But stubbornness—as Ace had said—was addicting, so, he stooped low to sit on the cold step, his ass going numb in an instant.

The sun began its slow climb over the horizon, throwing sharp shadows across the courtyard, birds sang their morning songs, even the wind seemed alive with purpose whipping through Gavin’s hair. Everything marched forward while he chose to remain still, prompted to move only to benefit the blood flow to his legs.

He may have dozed off for a moment because the next time he opened his eyes he was staring at Chloe’s SUV. She exited the car, seemingly unsurprised to see him.

“Hello Gavin,” she greeted as she approached, looking pretty as a picture, her blonde hair catching the sunlight making it glow like a crown above her head.

“Hello,” he said, not moving in case she disappeared with motion.

“You triggered the cameras,” she said, her eyes flicking to the inconspicuous device sitting on one of the door’s points, “is everything alright?”

Gavin chuckled, a bone-dry thing, “How do I answer without lying to you?” he asked, phrasing it as a rhetorical.

“You tell me the truth,” Chloe said, taking the moment between their pauses to sit beside him. “Ace isn’t here, he’s been invited to guest lecture a few states away. It’s a week-long outing,” she continued, making her most educated guess as to why Gavin was here.

“Did he take a donor with him?” Gavin asked through gritted teeth, rubbing his wrist at the thought.

“No, actually,” Chloe said, narrowing her eyes, “could I invite you in for some tea? Breakfast perhaps?” she asked, switching gears.

“That all sounds great Chloe, but you don’t have to be nice to me anymore,” Gavin said, forcing himself to stand, to descend the steps and walk back to his car.

“My treat,” she called after him, the _click-click_ of her stilettos getting louder as she followed after him, “we could go to my house if you’re uncomfortable here.”

Gavin shrugged, feeling like he’d just be postponing their discussion if he refused a second time. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Chloe’s home was in the busy part of town, close enough to his own home to call the area familiar. He’d had to pass it many times on his way to school, the mall just a few miles away, visible from the large windows. She ushered him inside, leading him through the lofty apartment, introducing him to modern upscale living standards. It was the opposite of Ace’s dark woods and royal reds. Her home was bright, enough to make him consider wearing sunglasses indoors.

“Please excuse the mess,” Chloe said, collecting one stray pillow and putting it back in its place, “the wife stayed home for work,” she said, her tone undeniably fond, her smile competing for brilliance with the sun.

“No worries,” Gavin said, deciding not to touch anything with his simple human hands. Chloe undid the latches of her heels and placed them on a shoe rack, sliding her feet into home slippers. She continued to get more comfortable, unwinding the intricate ponytail knot until her blonde locks fell into loose waves around her shoulders. Putting on an apron, she washed her hands and began cooking breakfast, humming a light tune, working in her element.

“Chloe!” A third voice rang from the right side of the apartment, “is Ace here?” they asked, their footsteps echoing down the hallway, getting louder as they approached.

“No, I was just at his house,” Chloe called back, pouring the first batch of blueberry muffin batter into the tins, “come say hi to Gavin!”

“ _That_ Gavin?” the disembodied voice asked, popping their head into the living room, “oh, hi Gavin.” Finally putting a face to a voice, Gavin waved at Chloe’s wife as she walked into the kitchen, wondering what he’d done to become _that_ Gavin.

“North,” Chloe chastised, greeting her wife with a quick peck. The brunette giggled, her brown eyes sparkling from the admonishment, “yes, that’s Gavin,” she whispered, low enough that only they could hear.

“Pleasure to meet you, Gavin,” North said, nuzzling into her wife’s neck, her sharp teeth nipping at the skin, unashamed to get a little taste in front of an audience. “I’m North, how are you today?”

“Jury’s out on that one,” Gavin joked, getting a genuine laugh from the vampiress.

“If you’re just gonna be distracting, you can go back to work,” Chloe said giving North a playful shove.

“You wound me,” North said, putting a dramatic hand to her chest and forehead, “how am I supposed to ever recover?”

“You’ll survive,” Chloe reassured, peeling a few potatoes, and shredding them to prepare the hash browns, “now shoo.”

“You heard the woman,” North said, looking at Gavin before she left the kitchen, “interesting mark you’ve got there,” she pointed out, forcing Gavin to sink further into his jacket, his face going red at her giggle. “I’m just kidding,” she said, rounding the counter to pat his shoulder.

He tensed under her touch, pulling away as politely as he could. She noticed but didn’t say anything to further the awkwardness. “Honey, I know you said Ace was in California but,” she paused, taking a deep breath, “I swear it smells like he’s just been here.”

“I told you,” Chloe said, sounding a bit unsure, “we were at his house...” she trailed off, following her wife’s line of sight which led her to Gavin. “What’s wrong?” she asked, turning off the fire under the potatoes before she came to join North.

“You know, don’t you,” North stated, her eyes piercing Gavin’s soul, “don’t you,” she repeated, shaking her head when he nodded. “Chloe, he’s a drudge,” North said, turning to her wife, the seriousness in her tone leaving no room for doubt.

Chloe still managed to choke out a “ _What_?” her eyes bugging out of her head. “Wait, no, that’s, that’s impossible, Ace can’t—”

“Apparently he can,” North interrupted, holding out her hand for Gavin’s arm, “please?” she asked, gentle when she took it, pulling back the long-sleeve to reveal the welt that purpled through his abuse. “Given the right circumstances, anything’s possible,” she murmured, pressing on the skin.

He flinched, taking back his arm, and burying it under the other.

“Oh my god, Gavin,” Chloe’s gasp was instantaneous, her face torn between surprise and despair, “I didn’t—I thought you were just having a reaction,” she said, tears welling in her eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said, the first he’d spoken since the cat was ejected out of the bag. If anyone had to find out, he was thankful it was Chloe.

“No, no, no, it most definitely is not,” she corrected, her voice trembling. They all jumped at the oven’s beep—the muffins were ready.

“I’ll take care of it,” North said, not wanting her wife’s attention to get split further than it already was.

Chloe nodded, lost for a moment before she took a deep breath, her face going blank despite the desire to fall further into elated despair. “I could not have predicted this even with all the signs, I was so certain it’d be impossible,” she said, motioning to her couch, needing for them to sit down.

“I believed you,” Gavin said, hoping it didn’t sound like he was blaming her.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Chloe said, looking at the ceiling, “you understand that we’re in a very _illegal_ situation here.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Gavin promised, holding up his hands in surrender.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Chloe was mincing her words, anxiety short-circuiting her brain, “You have every right to go to the police with this, gear up with lawyers, sue,” Chloe said, the irony not escaping her, “I’ve dealt with cases like these before, I wouldn’t even defend myself.”

“I’m not gonna rat you out, Chloe,” Gavin said, not wanting to cause her further distress, it was obvious she’d never prepared for news like this.

“You should,” Chloe said, grinding her teeth, “Ace doesn’t even know, he doesn’t even—no wonder he didn’t want to eat.”

“And I haven’t stopped eating,” Gavin said, his stomach giving a low grumble just for emphasis.

“Of course, you’re in a hypermetabolic state, doubling your red blood cell count and—oh, god, if I would’ve just listened to myself,” Chloe said, burying her head in her hands, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Chloe,” North said, sitting beside her wife and providing what little comfort she could, “it was an accident.”

“We’re not talking about a car crash here, North,” Chloe said, tears making their way down her fair face, “Gavin’s a drudge!” There was an ironic twist of her lips like she couldn’t believe her beautiful misfortune.

“Well, you have to tell Ace,” North said—the first logical step.

“I am not doing that,” Chloe said, looking at Gavin like he’d run away if she took her eyes off him, “we’d be really screwed then.” She sucked in a few deep breaths, calming the shakes in her hands until they were just tremors. “Do you want to be a drudge, Gavin?” she asked, knowing it was unethical to ask an already turned human.

“It wouldn’t be my first choice of employment,” Gavin said, feeling like he was in the back seat watching a movie play out that just so happened to revolve around him.

“This was never your first choice, Gavin, I know that, but you did it anyway,” Chloe said, her bottom lip quivering, “I’ll never forget it.” She sighed, the worst of her panic flowing out of her, leaving her exhausted. “North, do you have any idea what to do?”

“You mean besides telling Ace?” she said, not comfortable keeping the vampire out of the loop.

“You know I can’t,” Chloe said, serious, “you know why.”

“We could call Markus,” North sighed, conceding, “he might know a thing or two more about this.”

“Yes, _yes_ , Markus,” Chloe exclaimed, jumping out of her seat to fetch her phone. She walked into the other room to talk in peace, the flash of her blonde hair the last thing Gavin saw before she closed the door.

“You seem surprisingly calm for someone who’s just been told they’re bonded to a vampire,” North hummed, catching Gavin’s attention, “it’s like you’ve been through this before or something.”

“Or something,” Gavin murmured, picking at his sleeves.

“I see,” North nodded, “you know it’ll take months to flush the venom out of your system—once formed the bond sticks like tar. You won’t be the same after.”

“If there’s even an after,” Gavin said, his voice tight, “I know what can happen—the movies don’t exaggerate everything.”

“You might pull through,” North said, confident, “you seem like the type.”

Gavin didn’t know what gave her that impression, he was on his third strike with death, he didn’t recall the saying mentioning a fourth.

“Thank you, Markus, thank you,” Chloe said, leaving her office and hanging up the phone, “he’ll be here as soon as possible,” she declared, drying her sweaty hands on her apron, lamenting the wasted potential of breakfast.

“Who’s Markus?” Gavin asked when it seemed she wouldn’t elaborate further than her announcement.

“Oh, sorry,” Chloe apologized, her smile less agonized, “he’s a vampiric doctor, specializes in these sorts of complications—he’s been Ace’s primary since he was old enough to crawl,” she recalled, unable to help the fondness in her voice. It made keeping this secret harder, going against all motherly instinct just to protect them both.

She wasn’t sure how she managed to eat one of her muffins, picking at it as she was, Chloe wouldn’t be surprised if most of it landed on the counter than her mouth. Today had aged her, she felt it in her bones when she walked, in her spine when she sat back down—through North’s insistence. She wanted to curl into a little ball a pretend today had been a terrible dream, but Gavin was sitting on the opposite end of the couch, entertaining whatever random channel North had flipped to, filling the air with something other than silence.

Chloe was the first to stand at the knock, straightening her dress and her messy hair into something presentable. “Markus, thanks again for meeting us with such short notice,” Chloe said, giving the doctor—MD this time—a hug and a quick peck on the cheek.

“Hey, you know if you call, I’ll be there,” he said, reciprocating the embrace.

“You’re my hero, Markus,” Chloe said, returning to Gavin’s side, “let me introduce you, Doctor Markus Manfred, this is Gavin Reed—our accidental drudge.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Markus said through a polite chuckle, he extended a gloved hand, waiting for the human to shake it.

“Same,” Gavin said, taking the offered greeting.

“See, we’re friends already,” Dr. Manfred said, “hopefully you’ll remember that when I have a needled in your arm,” he said all good humour and smiles.

“That depends,” Gavin said, gravitating towards the only other human in the apartment, “what are you gonna do?”

“Modern medicine is a beautiful thing,” Markus said, patting his briefcase, “accidental drudgery, though rare, is not completely unheard of. The threshold for transformation is different in each human, pump enough venom into one and you’ll see a change.” Markus laid out his briefcase on the table, opening it to reveal its contents. “Some vampires have used that knowledge for nefarious purposes, not every breed is raised with manners after all,” the doctor said, his tone sober. “ _Venex_ was created for these acute cases, kicks out the venom from its receptor and replaces it for the duration of the medicine’s life.” He held the small bottle between pinched fingers, its contents clear.

“Does this actually work, or am I gonna’ get poked for nothing?” Gavin asked, sitting down on the only out turned chair. Somewhere between him moving and Markus talking to him, Chloe had found a bucket, its implications not sitting well with his stomach.

“It works, possibly too well, as you’ll feel its effects immediately,” Markus promised, opening an IV start kit.

“And what are those exactly?” Gavin asked.

“Patients sometimes describe it as having the blinds opened even though they could see, or a veil lifted that they didn’t know was there. You’re not incapable of thinking under the influence of the venom, but your threshold for compliance is severely lowered,” he answered. Before preparing the syringe, he washed his hands, leaving Gavin alone with his thoughts for a moment.

“Drudge brain,” Chloe said with a small smile, “makes it easier to get along with your vampire.”

“It’s not as one-sided as that,” Markus added, drawing up the lowest dose of _Venex_ , and setting it aside. “May I?” the doctor asked, taking Gavin’s silent nod as consent enough, manipulating his right arm into a comfortable position and palpating his veins. “The problem with _Venex_ is that it has a short half-life and less than ideal methods of administration,” Markus continued unprompted. “So, we pair it with _Vexatine_ —it does the same thing but lasts longer and you don’t have to poke yourself every few hours for it to work.”

“Great,” Gavin said, feeling like he was losing all autonomy. Similar to being a kid again, the doctors listening to the adults while his little voice was silenced.

“It also masks your scent, which is what we need if we’re trying to keep this a secret,” Markus said, his smile faltering, “there will be side effects, but nothing as severe as the withdrawals you’d experience without it.”

“I understand,” Gavin said, lowering his chin to his chest.

The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a light squeeze, “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but the alternatives aren’t as manageable,” he said, “now, Gavin, with your permission I’d like to start. Intravascularly is the fastest way for _Venex_ to work, but it’s not the only way. You have the option to continue taking it intramuscularly until _Vexatine_ takes its place.”

“Seems self-explanatory,” Gavin said, digging his nails into his palms to keep them from shaking. He looked away as Markus sanitized and prepared the crook of his arm, flicking at his skin to agitate the vein. It jumped in response, probably looking forward to something else piercing him. Gavin shifted his eyes as the IV needle went in, a disconcerting rush of relief flooding his system.

Markus was talking again, tearing him from his jumbled thoughts. “Alright, I’ll be pushing this slowly, let me know at any time if I should stop,” Markus said, hooking up the Venex and depressing the plunger, watching Gavin for any adverse effects. “How do you feel?” Markus asked, scenting Gavin, content when he couldn’t smell the vampire in his blood.

“Light-headed,” Gavin said, taking a deep breath, “otherwise just, a little tingly.” He stood, not without a bit of a wobble, and steadied himself before stepping forward.

“Gavin,” Chloe began, already by his side just in case he fell.

“Let him get used to it first,” Markus interrupted, holding up a hand.

They watched as he stumbled towards the couch, holding his stomach, and stopping by the cushions to dry-heave. After the first gag, Chloe was quick with the bucket, hovering close before she shoved it under Gavin’s mouth, catching the worst of his vomit.

“I’ll be sure to prescribe an antiemetic,” Markus said, apologetic.

Gavin chuckled despite his discomfort, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Could I have some water?” he asked, his throat raw.

“Of course,” Chloe said, “anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> North and her nose! 
> 
> I rather like using the medicine in this style, makes it make sense, it's still deceiving, but at least everyone is in on it from the start, not just Gavin. AND THERE'S A LEGITIMATE REASON LIKE A LEGAL LEGITIMATE REASON.


	8. Different Breed, Same Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very Ace centric chapter, which is great, because we don't often see his perspective in such clear lighting. Also, the addition of one of my non-main favourite characters, can you guess who it is?

Ace watched—through his UV-repellant windows—the sun sink into the horizon. He’d picked this room to be his office because of the view. On most days, it left him amazed that another day had passed, and he’d been granted entry into the next. Today only reminded him there was a long and unkind road ahead.

He balled his hands into fists to stop their shaking, but he knew they’d continue their treacherous tell until he fed again, which—if judging by last time—could take a few months. He was meant to see Gavin today, he tried his hardest not to remind himself, but muscle memory was older than vampire-kind and his fangs ached something terrible. He managed to coerce them back into his skull, but he could feel their turbulent insistence whenever he gave a moment’s thought to his ex-donor.

In retrospect, it may have been hasty to terminate them, but in his honest judgement, he could not find a better solution. No amount of blood was worth the mutual humiliation of their characters: Ace’s reputation and Gavin’s dignity. Their lives may have been spared, but that’d only solidified his decision, as much as he was begrudging it.

The vampire sighed, rubbing the throbbing sensation between his eyes, reprimanding himself for thinking about the human again. It was torture, really, a slow and painful death normally reserved for criminals, and here he was—starving himself willingly.

Ace thought of Chloe, a copy of the signed termination letter sitting on his table. He’d have to think of what to say to her and ask her for forgiveness in between. She worked terribly hard to find him compatible donors, and though it’s neither of their faults, he felt like a complete disappointment to her—the misbehaving child even his mother had discarded.

He had to fortify himself for the inevitable passage of time, prepare his senses for the onslaught of his supernatural hunger. Ace pressed against his gums, massaging his protesting fangs as they pushed. He needed to bite into something, but the thought of digging up his old teething trainers reddened his cheeks and brought indignation to his core. Their incident only happened a fortnight ago, he should not be this hungry.

Settling to gnawing against the leather of his belt, he found only a modicum of relief in the action. He was hungry and needed to feed, but Ace wasn’t one of those vampires that would go to the nearest donation centre and feed off anybody. He had a process.

Yet here he was, hungry and _needing to feed_.

Something had changed in Ace, and he was too afraid to give it a name, to actualize it. If he brought his concerns to Chloe, she’d probably rejoice. He wasn’t entirely inept—he knew she was worried about the longevity of this feeding scheme.

No one vampire should be without a drudge for too long. It was in their nature and heritage, especially considering Ace came from such an ancient and traditional breed of vampire. He wanted to reassure her and remind her that it’d worked this far, but something about this donor would disprove his stance. His blood... it was different, it reacted to his venom like no other donor’s had. He’d heard of drudges and their vampires linking before but never had the experience himself, and besides, Gavin wasn’t his drudge.

Ace bit through the piece of leather, splitting it in half as the dull pang in his gums erupted into a throb. He massaged them, placating himself with the action. He was sure Gavin was suffering worse than he was.

Withdrawals were never fun. He normally asked his donors after their contracts to leave some blood to ease their transition—it also didn’t hurt to have a backup. _It would’ve helped during his poisoning—he wouldn’t have had to bite Gavin then._

The reminder sent his fangs flying through his gums, overcrowding his mouth as his throat burned with a blinding fire. He needed to feed or else he’d find himself in a conundrum. He tried to think if he had any reserves left if somewhere inside his home there was _another_ freezer with donated blood.

Ace stood, making his way to the cellar. There were crates of wine, most of them human wine Chloe and her wife had collected over the centuries. Buried deep in the back, however, was a stack of blood wine predating his birth. Ace turned it over with apprehension, watching as the liquid flowed with an unappealing consistency.

He opened it, desperate, and took a whiff, recoiling and hissing at the bitterness. Yet a drowning man could not turn his nose to a lifesaver, so, he took a cautious sip, gawking at the taste but relieved to find it soothed some of the aches in his throat. He carried a few bottles with him, nursing the one in his hand. He didn’t know how alcohol affected vampires or if the blood wine was more blood than wine, but he kept at it, stopping only if he felt himself lose control.

His senses did dampen, but he welcomed the change, it made him less aware of who he was missing.

Ace drank the bottle into the early hours of the next morning, repeating the process of watching the sun ascend into the sky. As the rays hit his skin, common sense told him he should recoil, but there was nothing in his body that fought it, instead, he sunk deeper into the warmth of the day. He must have stood by his window for a few hours, pressing his forehead against the glass and breathing deeply, because, by the time he was forced to move, the sun had migrated to the opposite side.

He followed the sound of his old telephone, nearly tripping over his feet as a wave of vertigo hit him. Holding a hand to his mouth, he swallowed back the bile in his throat, reaching his desk with some difficulty, maneuvering around the rosewood to sit down. His phone kept ringing, its determination pounding in the vampire’s already tender skull.

“Hello?” he answered, massaging his forehead.

“Are you ready to try again?” Chloe asked without preamble.

“I’ll say yes, and for now could you pretend to believe me?” he said, holding his breath.

“Any other time, Ace, I would pull your ear until you spat it out, but I don’t have the time to worry for you right now,” she sighed, frustration an ever-present part of her tone, “I meant to give you more of a warning, but I’ve found another donor.” She paused, waiting for his protests or excuses, she should’ve known something was up when there weren’t any.

“I see,” he said, the blood wine curdled in his stomach, making him miss the gnawing emptiness of hunger rather than the nauseating thrill of indigestion. “When?”

“Tomorrow and I’d like to see you in your best robes,” Chloe joked before taking a deep breath, her tone serious when she said, “please take care, Ace—you and your brother are the last of the Richardson's children. If you were to perish, you’d be ending a long and powerful lineage.”

“I’m sure you never give Connor this much of an earful,” Ace grumbled, blindly searching for the blood wine.

“If I could ever get in contact with him, I would,” Chloe said it like a promise, “I’ll see you tomorrow, dear, get some rest.” With that, she hung up, leaving him with a volatile mix of anxiety and anticipation.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to feed again, his fangs digging into his bottom lip was proof enough. But the sensible part of him—the part that wasn’t drowning in an alcoholic stupor—knew it’d be dangerous. It was always dangerous, but the incident with Gavin had him rethinking what it meant to be a vampire, how quickly his instincts overshadowed decades of hard-learned discipline.

Stumbling his way upstairs, Ace made it to the bathroom intact, splashing water on his pale face. It’d only been two weeks, but the haze over his eyes had returned, the bags under his lids had upgraded to crates, and his cheeks ended in points. He steadied himself on the counter, letting the rushing water take him away from his thoughts.

His vision blurred and he had to lower himself to the floor before gravity got the best of him. Ace took a deep breath and held it, could’ve laughed at the whole situation if he didn’t feel like weeping instead.

His discomfort eased when he crawled into bed, but only just. It was hard to settle, the rumbling in his gut reaching a peak he only experienced after months off feed—not weeks. He’d fooled himself into thinking Gavin was the only sensitive one in their relationship. The last thing he wanted to do was give merit to a lost cause, but he had to admit most of his symptoms matched the written word.

 _Blood as sweet as honey_ , his mother used to tout, _made for an excellent drudge_.

He needed to stop—it was finished.

How Ace made it through the night without chewing through his mattress amazed him. Chloe had called him, giving him an hour to get ready, almost as if she knew he’d been drowning in his sorrows and antique blood wine. Speaking of which, he suckled at the lip of the bottle, commanding the burn in his throat to subside.

His body mocked him and cruelly reminded him of his weakness. He’d avoided the feeding room since the incident, hoping Gavin’s scent had dissipated in the last days, but luck was never on his side. He found himself hyperventilating as he approached the front door, his muscle memory reaching for the handle as the rest of him tensed up. No one was outside yet, he shouldn’t feel like this, but here he was—a fractured mess.

Ace gulped the last of his blood wine, cursing at how hastily he’d drank the bottle. He shouldn’t be inebriated for their next donor—it would ruin his first impression. Besides, he needed to ration his supply if this went wayside. 

By the time he returned to the foyer, Chloe was unlocking the door, giving him only a moment’s notice to school his features into a neutral expression.

“Ace!” she greeted, flashing her bright smile, “just in time,” she said, sidestepping into the foyer so their guest could enter. They looked about as dull and average as any other human, the low tones of bitterness in their blood the only indication of their fear. It was instinct for most of them, he’d be worried if a human _weren’t_ afraid of him at first sight.

“Welcome.”

* * *

Ace watched as more blood left his mouth, detaching himself from the situation as to not break his psyche. It’d taken everything in him not to throw up all over his donor’s shoes, restraining himself until the man had been safely out of his home.

He could say with all honesty that _this_ has never happened to him before. It was such a waste of blood—he lamented every ounce that escaped him even as his body fought hard to expulse the foreign intrusion. His fangs ached something fierce, throbbing in his mouth like he was teething for a third time.

Ace groaned, forcing himself from the porcelain bowl and to the sink, washing his mouth out with water. Contrary to popular belief, vampires weren’t immune to illnesses. An immunologist once linked hybrids to most mutated forms of the common cold and other viral diseases. It was said that their half-human, half-vampiric biology was potent enough to affect _both_ species.

There was a reason hybridism was frowned upon. The Vampiric Council worked hard to keep all bloodlines pure. Cross-contamination—as they put it—though not illegal was a social indecency, and hybrids were forced to either pair with humans—weakening their chances of full-vampiric progeny—or other hybrids.

Though Ace had no qualms with hybrids—he’d met plenty as a professor—they were an anomaly. For the first ten years of their life, they undergo extreme growth, thrusting them into adulthood twice as fast as humans and three times as fast as vampires, afterwards they slow enough to live hundreds of years. The known record for the oldest hybrid was 355 years, though not as impressive as the thousands of years a vampire—and their drudge if they have one—can live, it was quite a marvel of biology.

But his expertise didn’t centre around the flesh and blood of his fellow peers, it was mechanical in nature, the silent beasts that roamed the land with their combustible hearts. He was reminded of Gavin’s old junker sitting in his driveway. It stood out enough that its ghastliness had become a staple amongst his other cars.

It was time he did something about it.

Trashing it seemed like a disservice and if there was anything he hated more than wasted blood, it was wasted materials. So, with purpose, he entered his garage, opening the doors to his tow-truck. It was black like the rest of his utility vehicles, and rumbled to life, waking up from a deep sleep.

Ace took it to the front of his house, backing up just enough to be in range of Gavin’s car. Opening the old sedan, he put it in neutral, taking the towing hooks and locating their corresponding holes. He’d have to be careful, with the amount of rusted damage he could very well strip the bottom from the rest of the vehicle.

It heaved and creaked, but held steady, safely mounted on the bed of the truck for ease of transport. He drove it to his garage, lowering it into the middle of his workshop, putting a tarp over it for now. If he did end up fixing it, he’d have to contact Gavin first to see if he still wanted it—enough time had to pass first.

* * *

He did not invite the donor for a second week and asked Chloe to terminate their contract to her renewed distaste.

“This is the second time you’ve done this prematurely,” Chloe said with a click of her tongue, “don’t tell me you’re starting to get picky,” she teased, but Ace wasn’t listening to her, his head faraway, his eyes flirting with the edge of the tree line.

“Ace?” she asked, placing a gentle hand on his, “you’re old enough to tell me if something’s wrong.”

“I’m not sure if anything is wrong, Chloe,” he replied, tearing his eyes from the window, “but I’m not exactly hungry for blood at this moment.” A half-truth, one he’d yet to admit to himself.

“Prolonged fasting isn’t healthy,” she tutted, “and it’s already been a week since you’ve eaten properly.”

A month, actually, his previous meal had been reversed. He kept silent, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate his brand of humour, and nodded along to her concerns.

“Would you like to try something else?” Chloe asked, her sigh restrained, “a female, perhaps?”

Ace chuckled, wondering if he’d always been that obvious. “I think we should postpone further donors for now,” he said instead, looking at her with enough conviction that he hoped she took him seriously.

“Is this because of what happened with Gavin?” Chloe asked, cutting through the quick with her assumption.

“Partly,” Ace said, averting his eyes. Omissions of truths were just as sticky as lies, and he’d found Chloe to be quite the sleuth with her metaphorical scrubber. She closed her padfolio, the snap drawing his eyes to her hands.

“I don’t blame you for feeling responsible, Ace, but you’ve made your apologies, and if I recall it was your decision to terminate the contract,” Chloe said, poignant as ever, “don’t guilt yourself into starvation.” She stood, her back a straight line to the floor.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, failing to reassure her.

“Until you’re not,” Chloe said, shaking her head, “I’ll see if the blood bank has any spares,” she continued, speaking over her shoulder before she left. Ace would’ve told her not to bother, that it’d be a waste, but she was already gone, the determined click of her heels enough to keep him from disputing.

Hating to idle, he busied himself with cleaning the house, or what little of it there was to pick up. Now that he had no one to cook for, it remained pristine, only a fine layer of dust covering the otherwise untouched furniture. The journey around his home inevitably led him to the common room, the messiest—by his standards—of all the rooms.

Even with his robotic meticulousness, the clean lasted less than the length of a modern song, his hands idling once more. With a sigh, he sat by the out-turned chair, straightening the chess pieces until each corner of the piece was equidistant to the box it sat in. And yet...

And yet, he idled.

Smart enough to play with himself, he moved his black pawn forward, waiting for his opponent to make up his mind. Ace went to move the white piece, his hand coming away with a faint trace of a scent. His nose wasn’t normally that acute, appreciating his hard-learned ability to dampen down his predator-like senses on most days.

But now, as if possessed, he couldn’t help bringing the pawn closer. He didn’t go as far as to sniff it, having more self-control than that, but the fact that it’d crossed his mind was concerning enough on its own. Abandoning the game, he left the feeding room, _sorry,_ common room, and made a decided getaway to his study.

The other side of his half-truth was knocking at the doors of his consciousness, begging entry. He feared letting it in, acknowledging its wrongful existence. It set his fingers atremble, this indecision gripped his stomach—threatening another bout of nausea.

Much to his relief, the phone rang, breaking the caustic cycle of his thoughts. He took a deep breath, thankful his voice didn’t shake when he said, “Hello.”

* * *

A scholarly distraction was _exactly_ the unprescribed medicine his doctor had ordered. It let him occupy his mind with attainable things, like lectures, and meetings, and educational discussions about the viability of artificial intelligence—surrounded by his peers and superiors alike.

Some would consider it maddeningly dull, a group of old men fantasizing over numbers, but he cradled the opportunity like a precious gem, both for furthering his edification and distancing him from his problems.

“Come on, old boy,” one of his professors said with a heavy pat on his shoulder, “a theory like that would land you among the lunatics, what you propose is nearly fiction.” He smelled his age, antique blood like wine that’d been let to sit and spoil. Ace hadn’t been particularly fond of the man in his youth and that distaste hadn’t lessened with time.

“He might have a point,” a newer voice interjected, “if we had shot down Doctor Richardson a hundred years ago, we might’ve still been clinging to our horses’ reigns than to our engines.” It was almost rude, the confidence with which he spoke, but he was lending credibility to Ace’s words, as theoretical as they might have been.

“And you are?” another one of Ace’s colleagues asked, trying to be discreet about their sniffing.

“Just an admirer,” the stranger said, looking pointedly at Ace. There was a familiar glint in his blue eyes, and his scent piqued more than Ace’s interest, but just as soon as he’d opened his mouth to ask, the stranger was gone, bleeding into the crowd of other patrons.

“The gall of some hybrids,” his old professor stated with a disgusted click of his tongue, “what else were you saying, old boy?”

“I might have to save my _lunatic theories_ for the discussion panel,” Ace said, hoping to hide the edge of his words with a smile, “if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, lady.”

He managed to avoid any other interruptions on his quest to follow the scent. There was something unique to it, like entering a stranger’s home yet believing it was your own. Finding the brunet by the refreshments, he had to take a moment to dial back his fangs, not thinking it polite to talk with a mouthful.

“Finished wasting your breath on corpses?” the stranger asked, not turning around to acknowledge Ace. That tenor in his voice so familiar, yet Ace couldn’t place it, not without making odd leaps in his judgement.

The man turned, raising a brow at Ace’s silence. “Did I offend?”

“No, I just,” Ace began, swallowing the great ball of fire in his throat, “we haven’t met before, have we?”

“I doubt you’d remember me if we did,” the brunet said, holding out a pale hand, “Elijah Kamski, a pleasure to make your _proper_ acquaintance.”

“Ace Richardson,” the vampire said, returning the introduction.

“Hm,” Elijah hummed, turning his hand over in his grip, “you’re awfully cold.”

“Are you always this forward?” Ace asked, snatching back his hand.

“I find frankness to be refreshing,” Elijah said, taking a sip of his drink for emphasis, “don’t you?”

The vampire inhaled—the action aborted by that distracting scent. It forced him closer, possibly too close, despite the other man not reacting to the sudden intrusion to his personal space.

“You might want to soothe your needs with the punch,” Elijah whispered, pointing to the space around his eyes, “it’s filling enough.”

If Ace had the blood supply he’d blush, hating how embarrassing his autonomic responses could be. He excused himself with a flustered huff, looking for an escape.

“I’d love to continue our conversation,” Elijah called, his smirk self-evident in his tone, “when you’re not so distracted.”

Ace burst through the balcony doors, sucking in the fresh night air like a drowning man. He massaged his throat, the burn climbing with each ragged breath. Maybe he should’ve taken some of the punch, it was better than suffering the inferno of his thirst.

His phone rang with an incoming call, possibly one of his colleagues reminding him of the panel. But he couldn’t steady himself enough to return and pretend he wasn’t affected—he had to stand there and force the cool air into his lungs, force it through the ache of his fangs, and the blaze in his neck.

He’d known hunger, but this...this went beyond hunger pangs. He was craving something predictably specific and even the mere hint of it in the stranger’s blood had been enough to set him off.

The phone stopped ringing enough for him to collect his thoughts, to decide if he wanted to suffer the consequences of returning or be humiliated by his inaction.

Ultimately, his dignity won over his desire to hide but just barely. He’d have to be wary of his _admirer_ and hope that if they did cross paths, there’d be a roomful of people between them first.

* * *

Ace returned to his empty home mostly unscathed. Besides the ardent insistence in his esophagus and the cramping of his stomach, he survived his scholarly outing, receiving a few standing ovations along the way. He saw Elijah only once more before he left, he’d raised his glass to him during his last discussion and bled back into the crowd, much to Ace’s relief.

Now settled and his suitcase unpacked, he went about trying to decide if he should call Chloe or continue his self-imposed fast. Stubbornness made him hesitate, enough that it forced the universe to retaliate.

His ears perked to the opening of his front door—the click of Chloe’s heels familiar enough that he didn’t get up from his chair when she entered his study. What did make him stand—and with much urgency, might he add—was that _ensnaring_ scent wafting from his mother figure.

“Chloe,” he said before she had a chance to greet him, “your perfume is extra lovely today.” They were familiar enough that his sudden embrace wasn’t threatening, but she still tensed against him. Ace had stopped being physical with his affections at a very early age, clinging to her skirts only when his mother had been reprimanding.

“What perfume?” she asked, knowing she didn’t wear any out of principle that it masked her claimed scent.

It was Ace’s turn to freeze, to sniff the air and realize the scent wasn’t coming from Chloe but what she carried with her. The cooler looked nondescript and inconspicuous enough to pass for a lunch box, which—in retrospect—was exactly what it was.

“What’s in that?” Ace asked, hoping to sound appalled and not eager. He hadn’t eaten in a while and he’d be willing to suffer through indigestion if it meant his belly had been full.

“I managed to find someone willing to give some blood,” Chloe said, moving past Ace to lower the bag on his table. There’d been an odd lilt in her voice, too high, too proper. “Don’t worry, it was a donation.”

“Chloe—”

“ _Please_ , Ace, don’t refuse,” she snapped, a worrying tremor going through her spine, “it’d be a terrible waste.”

The vampire obeyed—his head bent in an apology. Chloe continued to open the cooler, removing the blood bag, snipping the top with scissors before handing it to Ace—ensuring he couldn’t refuse it. She watched him struggle to take it, despite the redness creeping into his irides and the black veins pulsing around his eyes.

Letting go of a breath when he finally, _finally_ , took the first sip, she lingered enough to make sure he’d latched on properly.

Ace closed his eyes as sweet relief cascaded down his throat, cooling the burn like a salve. Though not as satisfying as taking it from the source, he didn’t protest further, feeling the blood return warmth to his limbs, to his face, force new blood back into his beating heart.

“Thank you,” he managed to croak, his breathing haggard, eyes blurry.

“Take another,” Chloe said, already handing it to him, “don’t worry, I’ll be back with more,” she reassured, leaving him with the second bag.

Not as famished, meant that Ace could take his time. He didn’t normally try to analyze the blood he was being given, partly because he knew the person he was biting, and partly because he trusted Chloe’s vetting process. But this he couldn’t place—it was like trying to read a blank sheet of paper. He wouldn’t complain, however, the fullness in his belly more than enough to keep him quiet about asking the whereabouts of the mysterious blood supply.

It didn’t stop him from sniffing the remnants lingering in the translucent bag, to shudder at the ache in his overeager fangs. The lack of nausea should have been his first clue.

The fact that it tasted like him should’ve been the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, it was Elijah, couldn't NOT include that homewrecker in this, especially in the re-write, o h boi.


	9. The blood of the covenant is stronger than the water of the womb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice

Gavin rubbed the crook of his arm, mindful of the bandage holding pressure to his vein. He looked at Chloe, watched as she packed away the blood, discarded the needle, and removed her gloves. This was becoming a bi-weekly occurrence, often enough that her early morning knock at his front door was as expected as the sunrise.

It’d been Markus’ suggestion, and at the time, Gavin was too face deep in a bucket of his own vomit to pay much attention. But it made sense—get rid of a few extra blood cells until he wasn’t a drudge anymore.

Problem was, those ‘few extra blood cells’ didn’t seem to go away.

“Has he suspected anything yet?” Gavin asked, more to fill the dead space than actual curiosity.

Chloe paused, the sink’s rushing water growing louder in the silence. It masked the sound of her sigh but did little to hide the sagging of her shoulders. “He’s only mentioned the generosity of his mysterious donor—nothing more.”

Gavin nodded, not sure why it should disappoint him that the vampire hasn’t figured it out. What was he meant to figure out? He sighed, looking at his bandage again—the only time he seemed at peace was when he’d been drained, his symptoms held at bay by mechanical means. The medication didn’t stop the itching, or the feverish night sweats, or recurring nausea, nor the incessant hunger—but at least he didn’t feel like stalking Ace’s premises.

“How much longer do you think this will take?” Gavin asked, accepting the offered cup of tea. Though more of a coffee drinker if he was pressed for energy, Chloe’s insistence on brewing him a batch after each donating session was starting to grow on him, a habit brought about repetition.

“I don’t want to lie to you, Gavin,” Chloe began, blowing over the top of the steam, “it could take many more months before you find relief from your symptoms.”

“What if it never goes away?” Gavin whispered, his hands trembling, a hot water droplet the only consequence.

“I don’t plan on that being the case,” she said, serious enough that he believed her, “but if this becomes your new normal, then...”

“Then we’ll have to tell Ace,” Gavin said, completing the sentence for her. Chloe nodded, burying the rest of her words in her cup.

Her suggestion wouldn’t have been as damning if it hadn’t already occurred to him. The weeks that transpired between his realization, the medication, and this ‘new arrangement’ had given him much to think about—none of which sat well in his queasy stomach.

* * *

“Mom.” He hadn’t spoken to her in nearly two months, fearing she’d know just by his voice alone. “How would you react if I told you I was pregnant?”

Ms. Reed paused her rhythmic stirring, looking at her phone like it’d grown a second head. “I’d consider it a modern marvel, Gavin, but I’m assuming you meant if you were a _girl_ and were pregnant...or have you gotten a girl pregnant?” Ms. Reed asked, even more confused, “Gavin, are you—”

“No, mom, still gay,” Gavin said, cutting off her tirade before she began. He rubbed a hand down his face, unsure how to proceed from here.

“Good,” she said, feeling a bit flustered, “I mean, I don’t know how to answer your question Gavin, I guess I would say it’d be a bit irresponsible to bring another life into the world when you haven’t figured yourself out yet,” she began, the weight of her wisdom carrying through the static, “but that I’d support you any way I could.”

“Glad to know,” Gavin said, chewing his teeth.

“Don’t get testy with me, I’m only answering your question,” Ms. Reed reminded, putting down her bowl to better focus on her son, “what are you actually trying to ask, Gavin?”

So much for testing the waters, his mother was a sleuth, having had decades to practice sniffing out his bullshit. “I don’t know mom, I just—” he held his breath, restraining the sudden emotion that crossed his tear ducts, “I just wanted to make sure you’d be there if I fucked up, like badly fucked up.”

“A child isn’t a fuck up, Gavin,” Ms. Reed corrected gently, “and neither are you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know if I can, mom,” Gavin said, losing the battle with his eyes as tears made good on their threat and started streaming down his face, “I’m afraid you might change your mind,” he continued with a mirthless chuckle.

“I can make you a promise I won’t,” she said with some finality. It was enough to make him believe her, yet his tongue stalled in his mouth, pressed against his teeth, like sitting at the tollbooth and being a penny short.

“Gavin?” she asked, pulling him from the downward spiral of his thoughts. She waited long enough to know he wasn’t gonna budge, at least not by his own accord. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready, right Gavin?

“Right,” he rushed, clinging to the out like a lifesaver, “yes mom.” The ‘I promise’ was implied.

She let him go without pulling his ear too hard, that old cloud of worry looming over her shoulder nonetheless.

Gavin sighed, massaging the pounding between his eyes. He hated lying to her, hated how it clung to his guilt like tar. It was the same sticky feeling that followed him after Chloe left, that of betrayal and deceit. Chloe didn’t seem to enjoy it either, her smile not as bright as it used to be, her words not as cheerful.

If there were such things as blessed curses, he was sure this was it.

* * *

Ace raised his brow at his caretaker, watching as she watched him down a litre of blood. He slowed his intake, waiting to see if she’d speak what was sitting on her mind. He’d ask if only his mouth wasn’t so _occupied_.

“You’ve stopped fighting me,” Chloe said, her smile small but genuine, “I remember I had to wrestle you to the ground for you to eat your food.”

Ace’s cheeks bloomed with colour at the reminder, hoping his eagerness wouldn’t contradict his vows to stoicism. “As you said, it’d be a waste of blood,” he replied, working around his fangs.

“I’m sure your _generous_ benefactor would appreciate your consideration,” Chloe said, her smile hinting at a smirk.

“Will I ever meet my donor?” Ace asked, his curiosity running ahead of him.

Chloe’s shoulders tensed, a misstep. “You have his blood, that should be enough.” Her tone was enough to make him flinch. He looked at her again, taking one last swallow of the blood before he clamped the bag and lowered it back into the cooler.

“You’re often more charitable with the details, Chloe,” the vampire said, keeping his voice light, “what’s changed?”

“You’ve refused your nature far too often, don’t reprimand me for trying to work around it,” she said, her blue eyes shining in the firelight.

“My nature, or my nurture?” Ace retorted—his appetite snuffed.

“You are not your parents, Ace,” Chloe said, her tone gentling, “and you’re not responsible for the sins of your grandparents.” She’s said this before, in varying degrees.

“I may not be my parents, but their tainted blood courses through my veins, their names are spoken behind my back, in hushed voices and slanted glances,” Ace said, indignation forcing him to his feet, “I may not be my parents, Chloe, but I’m not that far removed from them.”

“Will you always blame yourself for their faults?” Chloe asked, her heart jumping to her throat.

There was a fire behind the vampire’s eyes, ever-present, overpowering all rational thought when it came to his family tree. He couldn’t see how she wasn’t as incensed about this as he was, had she been a drudge so long she’d forgotten her humanity?

‘The Great Middle Ages of Vampiric Rule,’ was romanticized by many vampires old enough to remember it as being the true epoch of vampiric potential, of pushing the limits of vampire kind.

Millions of humans were enslaved for blood agriculture, forever marring the unspoken truce between species. Vampires wanted to prove they were superior, whilst ignoring the irony of their prejudice. They could not survive without the same blood they shunned under their boots.

Ace’s grandparents were the most notorious, hosting slaughterhouse parties and entertaining several prominent guests, their royal ties and tremendous wealth thrusting them into the envy and admiration of every vampire. Until their inevitable massacre in the Red Revolt of 1407, they’d had the largest blood farm in all Western Europe, second only to the actual King and Queen.

Ace was yet to be born and his brother was too young to be reprimanded, yet their parents had managed to escape, fleeing to what would be known as the United States, their names fading into obscurity through the erosion of time.

Those who did remember it were vocal about preserving it, as either a reminder or a badge of pride, Ace couldn’t say. He did recall when he’d learned about it, his brows drawn tight with confusion, a replicated painting of his grandparents hanging behind bullet-proof glass in a _human_ museum, which had no qualms slandering every letter of their names.

It’d been successful in instilling in him the guilt that seemed to bypass the rest of his family. He chalked it up to his premature birth, to Chloe’s careful attention to his growth, to his inability to do as his grandparents had, as his parents had insisted he _should_ do, as it seemed the universe had intended him to do.

But resenting his failure to create drudges hardened into apathy. Just the thought made him recoil, Chloe’s determination that he try and try again despite countless tests and experiments, countless “donors”—he simply couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.

Surviving his nature was a personal battle, one he couldn’t hope for Chloe to understand. It’s why he spared Gavin the consequences of inaction, of inevitable repetition. Ace’s biggest fear was becoming the monster encoded in his DNA.

“You should’ve broken the rod over my head instead of spoiling me, Chloe,” Ace said, turning his back to her.

“I will not forsake you like you want me to,” Chloe said, the fierceness in her tone comforting even if its effects weren’t immediate, “ _I_ am not your parents.”

The vampire said nothing, focusing his efforts on the old wood in front of him. He heard Chloe sigh—her tell-tale boiling point for frustration—and leave, her heels softening until they were no longer audible.

* * *

“How long have you known Ace?” Gavin asked whilst Chloe secured the needle in his arm. A smile played on her lips, scaring away the serious lines that seemed to settle over her face every time she stepped through the threshold.

“My whole life,” Chloe said, then grimaced, “or I suppose it’d be more apt to say his whole life.” She pursed her lips, her head cocked to the side. Through these meetings, she and Gavin had formed a tentative acquaintance, agreeing to keep some things unspoken even if it involved dancing around the subject like they were standing on hot rocks. She was a constant reminder of what he’d become, so she appreciated his curiosity more than his resentment.

“That’s a long time,” Gavin hummed, watching the little machine whir and spin, the clear tubes filling with his blood, depositing it all in a nondescript translucent bag. The sight should make him nauseous, but that came after.

“Yes, very,” Chloe agreed, standing to brew them some tea, “it was actually through North and Markus that I ever came to know Ace—she’d assisted in his birth,” she continued, seeing everyone in her mind’s eye. “North worked with Markus for many years before she’d met me, I believe they might have been together at one point, but she refuses to tell me,” Chloe said all in good humour.

“Well, she’s obviously moved on,” Gavin said, making kissy-faces at Chloe.

She laughed—a beautiful tinkle of morning bells. “She’s very affectionate, yes,” Chloe admitted, her face turning pink, “when North found me, I was on my death bed, a poor French orphan burning hot from tuberculosis. She says she fell in love with my wispy little flyways, how they’d surrounded my head like a halo—a premature angel.” She stood to walk to the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove.

“She’s got a way with words,” Gavin said, his throat growing itchy, eyes surprisingly bright.

“North’s lived long enough to have some practice,” Chloe said, listening for the whistle, pouring out two cups of hot water, and steeping the mint leaves before returning to Gavin’s side, monitoring the machine, “she would visit me each night, run cool rags down my face, and even in my delirium I remember her singing to me,” she said, taking one of Gavin’s hands before singing, “ _hold on, just a little while longer, everything will be alright_.”

Gavin did cry then, the tears unexpected just as Chloe’s had been. “She sings it better than I do,” she reassured, her voice thick with emotion, “there was a moment of clarity closer to the end of my illness, I’d gripped her hand one night before she left, hoping she understood I appreciated what she’d done for me.

“I won’t forget our first kiss,” Chloe said, touching her lips for emphasis, “my mouth was all bloody and cracked and all sorts of gross from being in bed, yet she didn’t let me go.” Chloe’s smile faltered a bit, her hand going to her neck. “She’d offered to save me, made it sound like such a sweet blessing riding on the back of a curse.”

“She made you her drudge,” Gavin said, filling in the blank.

“North didn’t make me Gavin, I accepted, I think I would’ve followed her to hell and back if she’d asked,” Chloe said, letting go of Gavin’s hand, “love is very debilitating, it puts in perspective the things you’re willing to do for it, in the name of it.”

“Is that why you won’t tell Ace about this because you love him?” Gavin said, looking at her even as she averted her eyes.

“Ace doesn’t want this any more than you do, telling him is just unnecessary stress to a problem he’d only make worse in his involvement,” Chloe said, shaking her head, “it’s not your fault this happened, but trust me when I say it’s better this way.”

“What do you think he’d do if he knew?” Gavin asked, her answer postponed by the completion of the first bag. Her hands were surgeon steady as she clamped the primary tubing, switching the bags, restarting the process while she packed the finished bag in ice.

“Other than blaming himself?” Chloe asked, her sarcasm drowning the rhetorical question, “I don’t know, Gavin, most likely nothing—he’s a different breed, won’t be swayed by biological pre-sets.”

“He refuses his evolutionary drive,” Gavin stated, a flicker of frustration piercing through his heart.

“Exactly,” Chloe said, “at least you understand.”

“I know stubbornness when I see it,” Gavin mumbled, flexing his fists.

“If only it were applied properly, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Chloe sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. She brought the finished tea to Gavin, taking her own and sitting by him, “Careful, it’s hot,” she warned, heeding her own advice, before blowing gently on the liquid.

* * *

Ace wasn’t one to ruminate over a subject that didn’t involve machines. If it dealt with flesh and blood, he figured a medical doctor was more apt to answer those questions. But as Chloe kept presenting him with a steady supply of nourishment—its origins still foreign to him—he had to ask why he’d grown so keen on scenting the bag she brought it in rather than going for the blood first.

The source of the scent was the same as that of the blood, stronger as if the bag had been sat near the donor for hours. It had hints of Chloe too, her claimed markers all over the handle. He’d never spent this much time trying to figure out a scent, the last time he had he’d almost embarrassed himself in front of his peers.

Ace felt the answer was staring at him like he was stupid, each moment that passed making it harder to see the connection even as his resolve to investigate grew with intensity.

Whenever he found himself in a critical thinking bind, he resorted to using his hands, to let go into the basic task of unscrewing, and hammering, welding, wire-working, fixing, building, and starting all over again.

And he knew exactly the thing to cure his mental block.

Ace forwent his formal clothes for his overalls and thick, steel-toed boots, wrapping his tool belt around his waist, and shoving his hands into his grease-stained gloves—ready to conquer the old car in his garage.

It’d been weeks since he’d thought about it, though it flitted in and out of his mind at random hours of the day—unfinished projects normally did.

It felt good to have a purpose again—as momentary as it’ll be—to pull the tarp off the junker and tackle it step by step. He got as far as the door before that elusive scent made its presence known in big bold letters.

Ace’s throat began to burn, alarming his senses like there was a literal fire descending into his gut. He stepped away from the car, feeling unsteady on feet that’d seldom failed him. The car stared back at him like it knew something he didn’t, more secrets held further within.

The vampire rushed back to the vehicle, opening the front door with piqued urgency. Gavin’s scent—because that’s who it was—hit him, abused the rest of his senses until he crumpled to his knees, the knots in his stomach twisting until he thought he would die.

But he didn’t, coming to with some difficulty. He replaced the tarp once more, blocking the worst of his realization. Shaky legs brought him to his library, the bookshelves piled high, reaching several stories above everything else. Most of his collection was untouched with books he’d promised himself he’d read whenever he had the chance, but now wasn’t the time to lament his procrastination.

There was a book, a very detailed book written by a not-so detailed man, that struck out to him. He’d kept it despite it not having much use to him, kept it because getting rid of an antique hurt him surprisingly deep.

He steadied his hands as his fingers flipped through the pages, skimming through the sprawling texts. His immediate reaction was to reject the words because he possibly couldn’t be! Even Markus, whose opinion he trusted beyond those of other vampire experts, had stated his venom glands had undergone attenuation in the womb, rendering his venom harmless—sterile.

His parents had tried to hide their disgust, but it wasn’t soon after that they began removing him from family functions, distancing themselves from their imperfect son. “ _How disgraceful_ ,” Ace could hear his mother taunt, “ _you’re a disappointment to this entire lineage_.”

Ace snapped the book shut, his face hot with anger, everything within him burning with a twisted sense of pride and despair. This was not supposed to happen, yet it had, beyond all odds, beyond all tests, beyond all else—

And he hadn’t even known.

* * *

Gavin sat in Dr. Manfred’s waiting room, bouncing his leg to pass the time. He’d been brought a glass of water which had had ice cubes in it at some point, but time and entropy had worked against them, and now the glass sat in a pool of its own condensation. The television droned on and on about the news, about the weather, punctuated by commercials that sold him things he didn’t need for goals he didn’t want to achieve.

Chloe had to check in with Markus, and though she’d promised a speedy return, Gavin couldn’t help but notice that the minute hand on the analog clock had marched its way halfway across the face, and she’d yet to make it back.

He was here because it’d been three months and he felt _the same_. No amount of reassurances from Chloe or prescriptions from Markus could hide that. He’d taken to wearing bandages over his wrist and neck to protect his skin after he’d found he’d been scratching it bloody in his sleep. He had an automatic delivery service drop-off food to his doorstep because he couldn’t be bothered to return to the store every day when he ran out of food. All he could do—all he could think about—was the next time Chloe would come to bleed him, relieve some of his distress through the simple act of puncturing his veins.

Gavin didn’t think this was normal, and it’d taken a few weeks for Chloe to agree.

So, they were here, and now Gavin worried his bottom lip between his teeth because Chloe had promised she’d be back soon, and that was now an _hour_ ago.

“Mr. Reed?” a soft-spoken voice called from the door. The blond had been introduced to him as “Simon, Markus’ husband.” And Gavin, because he was an asshole, replied with, “Gavin, Ace’s unwanted drudge.”

Maybe Chloe had left him there for good, dumped him at the doctor’s office to be rid of the responsibility. But that was his bitterness talking, and the guilt coiling in his chest only expanded when he saw her side-step Simon to come into view.

“Come with us, please?” she asked, holding out her hand for Gavin to take. He did so if only to placate her request. They walked through the old home, Markus’ taste in décor like Ace’s. He had more paintings, abstract in nature instead of just being nature, the most prominent piece stood in the living room—two hands reaching for each other but not quite touching. _In Perpetuum_ , read the little sign beneath it.

The doctor came in from the left carrying a few cups of coffee, he handed one to Simon, and let Chloe and Gavin decided if they wanted one. He took it, sipping on the black bean water, thankful for the distraction.

“I’ve got news,” Markus began, procuring some papers from the inside of his lab coat, “I’m sure you’ll appreciate it if I just cut to the chase.”

“Yes, please,” Chloe said, nodding once.

“Gavin,” the doctor said, grabbing the young man’s attention, “your blood is very special, during my tests it seemed to take very well to all kinds of venoms—even that of hybrids,” the doctor continued despite Gavin’s visible confusion, “the professional term is venom hypersensitivity. In a regular human venom is filtered through the kidneys, leaving harmlessly out of the blood, it isn’t until repeated introduction that the body begins to hang on to the venom, where it has a chance to change the metabolic processes. The venom levels have to be constant because if it’s not, the kidneys will remove most if not all of it in a day.” Markus paused, gauging Gavin’s reaction. He still looked at him with apprehensive confusion, the gears turning against their will.

“Individuals with hypersensitivity don’t have that problem,” the doctor continued, keeping his voice clear and professional, “once venom is introduced, their immune system creates pro-bodies, which hang on to the venom and wait for more. If venom is reintroduced, the pro-bodies seek it out, accelerating the body’s metabolism to nearly three times that of a regular drudge and within a week, if not less, they’ve become a full-fledged drudge.”

“In your case, you had a bit more time,” Markus said, “but that may have also been a detriment. We were all under the impression that Ace’s venom wasn’t strong enough to bring about a change—in this one instance, we were wrong.”

Chloe hung her head in shame. She’d known the sings, seen them firsthand, and ignored them despite better judgement.

“So, what does this mean for me?” Gavin asked, his coffee growing cold in his grip.

“Unless you can find a way to replace your immune system,” Markus began, taking a deep breath and double-checking his notes to be certain, “you’ll be a drudge forever.”

Gavin was stunned into silence, unblinking as he watched how Chloe’s face fell into her hands, guilt most likely racking through her soul. She was so worried about Ace blaming himself that she forgot to protect herself from the same fate.

“I’m so sorry we couldn’t help sooner, Gavin,” Markus said, his dual-coloured eyes sincere.

“So, do I have to keep taking the medicine, like, if it doesn’t even fucking work why am I on it?” he asked, putting down his cup with a bang, liquid sloshing over the sides.

“You don’t have to keep taking the medication,” Markus said, nodding once.

“Good,” Gavin spat, “fucking great, at least we have some good news.” He didn’t wait for another response, letting himself out through the large double doors. Chloe’s heels were quick on his tail, reaching him before he slammed his car door in her face.

“Gavin, please, don’t go just yet,” Chloe begged, tears destroying her mascara, “I am going to fix this.”

“How, Chloe? Are you gonna finally tell Ace?” Gavin asked looking at her as his own tears fell from his lids, “will you finally tell him his biggest fear has come true?” He wasn’t expecting an answer, so he didn’t wait for one, peeling out of the driveway and rushing home, hoping he’d wake up in his bed and realize this was all some cruel and unusual joke.

* * *

“Ace?” Markus said, his brows reaching his hairline after he’d opened his front door, “what a surprise, is everything okay?” he continued.

 _No, frankly Markus, it is not._ Ace thought, rubbing a mental hand down his face. Lost for answers, he drove to the only person who’d be unbiased about looking for them. Chloe was too close, she knew—he knew she knew—and she wouldn’t say because she was protecting him. From himself, from his reaction, he couldn’t tell, but her judgment was skewed by her maternal instincts and he wouldn’t blame her any more than he could the sun its rays.

He normally had more class when coming to someone’s home uninvited, namely—he didn’t do it. But his theory needed confirming or disproving, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d put his manners on the line in the name of science.

“Sorry to bother you, Doctor, but I’ve found myself unable to answer my own questions,” Ace said, grimacing, “I was hoping you’d be willing to help.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Markus said without hesitation, ushering the vampire inside. Ace appreciated the swiftness with which the other vampire was willing to help, it calmed the few nervous tics running through his hands. The doctor led them through the old home, the previous owner’s touches still lingering in each painting that adorned the walls, his face in multiple frames.

A third scent presented itself, revealing the blond before he appeared. Markus’ drudge was just as old as he was, dwarfing Ace’s age by double. He gave a small wave, passing by to the other room.

“Simon,” Markus called, catching his attention as Ace removed his jacket, padding towards the doctor and his drudge. He caught them in the middle of exchanging papers, the blond doubling as his assistant, and—if judging by their matching wedding bands—tripling as his husband.

“Would you also postpone whatever meetings I have for tonight? I think Ace and I might need the time,” Markus said, looking at the younger vampire.

“Of course,” Simon replied, giving his husband a peck on the cheek. Ace watched the conversation, a sting of jealousy forcing his lips downwards, his brows into a tight line. He had to school his features into passable cordiality before he was kicked out for disturbing the peace.

Markus still managed to sense his irritation, forming a picture in his head before breaching the first question. They continued through the office and into the large living room, letting Ace choose a seat before he sat across him, open ears.

“What brings you in, Ace?” Markus asked.

Before the other vampire answered he took a deep breath, his eyes closing on their own accord. He opened them, something akin to betrayal working through his expression. “They were both here,” he said, his tone bordering on an accusation.

Markus nodded, knowing that denying that fact would do them both no good. “You know now, don’t you?”

“How is it even possible?!” Ace exclaimed, getting to his feet, “you said it’d be _impossible_.”

“I said it _might_ be impossible,” Markus corrected with a gentle tone, “even at the time I didn’t rule out the possibility.”

“But how?” Ace asked again, trying to regain his composure.

“Gavin is part of a rare group of humans born with venom hypersensitivity, his father was most likely a hybrid, if not both his parents,” Markus said, holding back nothing.

“Why does it matter that his dad was a hybrid?” Ace asked, unable to quell his curiosity even through his distress.

“Hypersensitivity is linked to the Y-chromosome,” Markus explained, the small twist of his lips ironic. Ace’s proclivities had damned him before his venom had.

There was a pause where Ace felt embarrassment bloom on his face, spread red throughout his entire neck and even further down his chest. “And Chloe knew?” Ace asked to distract himself, despite knowing the answer.

“After the fact, yes,” Markus said, “but it was North who sniffed it out, as you’d say.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Ace grumbled, hurling the accusation into the air.

“Would you have liked to know?” Markus answered with his own question.

“Of course, it’s all my fault,” Ace said, predictably, “if I would’ve known I wouldn’t have treated Gavin with such cold discourtesy.” 

Markus squinted, scratching his chin as he thought. “I believe that’s why they didn’t tell you, Chloe feared you’d blame yourself, and Gavin doesn’t seem to want to be pitied.”

“Goddammit, Chloe,” Ace cursed, rubbing his temples, closing his eyes, “she brought me his blood in bags, and I couldn’t even smell him, I couldn’t even tell who it was.”

“That would be the medicine,” Markus said, nodding as if he agreed.

“What medicine?”

“ _Vexatine_ , it’s meant to help reduce symptoms of hypersensitivity, but also doubles as a scent blocker,” Markus said, never once faltering in his explanation.

“There’s medicine for that?” Ace said, feeling stupid for not considering it an option before, “why would—”

“Your accidental union is illegal, Ace,” Markus interrupted, holding up a hand, “it tied our hands.”

It was like a bucket of ice had been poured down Ace’s spine, his lungs burning whilst he held onto his breath for dear life. “Yet despite all that, I found out,” he said in a huff.

“The truth will always prevail, even in the most unlikely of circumstances,” Markus said, standing to place a hand on Ace’s shoulder, “you should talk to them.”

“How do I even talk to them about this?” Ace asked, trying not to get angry as the vampire inside him roared at the deception. He had a right to know, whether it was his fault or not, whether he’d blame himself or not, his involvement should’ve been a must.

“I’d say carefully, for starters,” Markus said, empathizing with the vampire, “they have their reasons if they’ve gone through this much trouble keeping it from you.”

Ace nodded, fighting with his pride and righteous anger, knowing that if the situations were reversed, he’d also be wary about letting himself know.

“Though it might not seem like a good thing now Ace, consider it positive that your venom is not entirely inept,” Markus said, giving another shoulder squeeze.

It did not make Ace feel better, but he was sure his parents would be overjoyed by the news. He left with a poor excuse for a goodbye—his mind aimless as he put his car in drive.

* * *

Gavin managed a few hours of troubled sleep before he was awoken by a burn in all his pulse points. They beat against his skin like lively little birds, like bugs that’d burrowed deep into his veins and scraped against them to try and claw their way back out.

He dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom, splashing cold water against his face to break the worst of the cycle. Digging through his medicine cabinet for the Benadryl, he was interrupted by a knock at the door—and judging by its insistence, it’d been urgent.

The burn in his pulse jumped to the rest of his body, giving him a first-hand taste of what being thrown into a firepit must feel like. He didn’t think when he opened the door, didn’t even call out to ask who it was. Any fate would be better than the one currently harassing him.

And then time stopped, and everything else followed.

Gavin hadn’t seen him in so long he’d nearly forgotten his face, how his eyes caught the low light, shimmering at the right angle, how a few strands of his brown hair fell out of its comb-over, framing the sharp angles of his fair face. He nearly forgot he’d been indirectly feeding this creature and that’s why he didn’t look two steps away from death.

Ace stared back at him like he was seeing him again for the first time, everything about Gavin’s scent screaming _mine_. It didn’t compare to the faint whiff of the chess pieces, the stronger yet blocked scent of his literal blood, the soaked scent in the inside of his car, now like phantoms to his memories in the presence of the real thing. His fangs were embarrassingly long, and there was nothing he could do to shove them back into his gums.

“You know,” Gavin whispered, though he might as well have yelled it by the way they both flinched.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double nice, I'm really excited to kick this off into its official next stage. I can't believe they managed to be without each other for nearly three chapters.


	10. Older than the two of us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayy, our babies are finally back together. And boy do they have a lot to say to each other.

Gavin’s shoulders fell to the floor, breaking the eye contact. “Did Chloe tell you?” he asked, feeling like he’d been robbed the opportunity to do it himself.

“No,” Ace answered with a shake of his head, “I figured it out despite your best efforts.”

“My best—” Gavin cut himself off, hating for the neighbours to call in noise complaints this late at night. He pulled the vampire through the threshold, closing the door before he pushed him against it, balling his fists into the fabric of his blazer, “I had no choice in ‘my best efforts,’” he hissed, letting go of Ace.

Physically intimidating or not, Gavin’s intention was clear, and Ace had to admit that starting with an accusation wasn’t his smartest move. He straightened his clothes, keeping his breathing shallow enough that he wasn’t burning his throat with each inhale.

“I suppose an apology is in order,” Ace began, humbling himself despite his annoyance. He would’ve continued, but Gavin beat him to the punch, his shorter body vibrating with pent up anger, Ace could taste it, cinnamon-hot and sticking to the back of his tongue.

“I don’t want your fucking apology,” Gavin said, emphasizing it with finger to his chest, “I don’t want your fucking money,” again, he jabbed his index into Ace’s chest, not daring to look at him, “I don’t want your fucking pity,” he was losing steam now, multiple emotions crashing into him at once, “I just don’t want to be your drudge anymore.”

“I know—”

“No, you can’t possibly know! Because I have no choice now,” Gavin nearly screamed, frustrated tears overflowing down his cheeks, “I am stuck with you for the _rest_ of my _fucking life_.”

“How could we have possibly known—”

“Ace, I’m not blaming you,” Gavin interrupted again, “I’m not even blaming Chloe,” he continued, surprised to hear himself say so, “I just don’t want this.”

The vampire gave Gavin a moment more to express the rest of his ire, but for now, it seemed the younger man had tired himself out, granting him an opening to speak.

“It’s quite a personal thing, isn’t it, a bond between a vampire and a human. Far more intimate than marriage, made worse when it’s unwanted,” Ace began, his eyes serious, “I’m not a stranger to this feeling. I was unwanted at birth, a malnourished cretin with the unfortunate penchant for survival. I was unwanted by my mother when I couldn’t produce a drudge. Now I’m unwanted by you.”

“You also don’t want me,” Gavin said, rubbing his face with the back of his hand, “you left me just like my dad, driving away in your fancy fucking car, using money as a poor excuse for an apology.”

“We’re in perfect harmony then, unwanted by the other, together nonetheless,” Ace said, smirking with disbelief, “a terrible misfortune.”

“It’s a cosmic joke is what it is,” Gavin said, chuckling until he was laughing, feeling a few more seconds from unhinged. Ace joined him in the pity-party of laughs, unsure what he was meant to do with what he had now.

“Make yourself comfortable I guess,” Gavin said, motioning to the sofa. At least Ace’s money hadn’t gone to waste. He’d used most of it to pay off his mom’s mortgage and the rest his own debts, lying to her about its origins, maybe when the dust settled he’d be more truthful—now that he had no other choice. “I’ll call Chloe.”

“You two have been incredibly close these past few months,” Ace said, scenting her claimed perfume on most of the common area, dissipating the closer he got to Gavin’s bedroom. He poked his head in for a moment, the human’s scent unfiltered there. Ace wouldn’t deny that it soothed something in him to finally have that mystery solved.

“Jealous?” Gavin mocked, turning his back to the vampire, missing the way he shot daggers into his back, “he knows,” Gavin said into his phone, hearing the exact moment her eyes grew wide, stopping whatever she’d been doing. “Yes, he’s here,” he continued, nodding to her reassurances that she’ll be there in a bit, “see you soon.”

“She’ll be—”

“I heard,” Ace snapped, still not over Gavin’s comment, “I am not jealous. What you two do in your spare time is none of my business.”

“You better make it your business,” Gavin grumbled, side-eyeing the vampire, “I’m your property now.”

How had a human managed to drive him speechless twice in a row? Words failed him—thousands of hours spent on education whisked from him in one fell swoop. Ace was sure he’d fail at writing his own name if asked.

He wanted to correct Gavin but understood that contradicting him might prove his point. Out of options, he idled, hating the uselessness of his fingers, in his poise, how he couldn’t get comfortable even though Gavin had invited him to.

“Look on the bright side,” the man hummed, constructing a late-night sandwich, “at least now you won’t starve.” He ended his sentence with a punctuating bite of his meal, the liquid in his grey eyes turning to steel.

“I would appreciate if you reserved your resentment for when I’ve actually hurt you,” Ace said, matching Gavin’s intense stare.

“So much for an evolutionary drive, right,” Gavin retorted, ignoring Ace.

Before they could tear each other apart, Chloe knocked on Gavin’s door, her scent not the only one behind the door.

“Now we’re a crowd,” Gavin mumbled, letting Chloe, North, and Markus into his apartment. They separated like water, each taking a specific spot in the small space.

“Ace,” Chloe said, the first to speak. She looked humbled—her face bare, her baby blues bigger as a result. The vampire turned his head, walking towards the window, reminding himself to be mindful of the sun when it rose—he doubted Gavin’s windows provided much protection against it.

“Well, that cat’s out of the bag,” North said, getting comfortable on the kitchen counter, “what’s next?”

“Logic would dictate we correct the legality of this situation,” Markus spoke, patting his briefcase, “consent will be an issue, and unfiltered, your blood would show your status, Gavin.”

“I know,” the ex-donor-turned-drudge said, resigned to his fate. Unless he could get his hands on a new body, he had to get used to this ‘new normal.’

“ _Venex_ , though not ideal, is powerful enough to produce a false negative, meaning if they don’t test for pro-bodies, they won’t know the difference,” Markus said, opening his briefcase and removing two little vials of the medicine, along with enough needles to last a day, “I’m sure you remember how to use it,” Markus said, looking pointedly at Gavin.

He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How long was this going to last?” Ace asked after he’d turned, watching as all four seemed to have a part to play in keeping him oblivious. His gaze landed on Chloe, the one his heart deemed to be the most responsible.

“Long enough that you’d never find out,” Gavin said over his shoulder.

“I, for one, wanted to tell you, Ace,” North said, raising her hand. Chloe was torn between comforting her son and admonishing North, they’d all agreed to do what was best at the time. She just didn’t expect it to spiral so out of control.

“Thank you, North,” Ace said, his sarcastic lilt abrasive to the senses, “I’m sure Chloe was incredibly persuasive in convincing you not to.”

That may have been the wrong thing to say, as North’s initial instinct to protect her wife overpowered her own maternal senses. Her posture straightened, the rest of her coming off the counter, stalking the younger vampire. “Have you forgotten what your family has done?” she asked.

“North—”

“No, Chloe, let me speak,” North said, cutting her off, “have you forgotten, Ace, or do you wallow in self-pity for show?”

Ace took a deep breath—his senses confused with all the scents, obsessing over the one standing in the back corner—and met her eyes. “I have not forgotten.”

“Good. Chloe did what she had to do to protect you,” North reminded, “don’t begrudge her for it.” The vampire returned to her drudge, burying her well-intentioned chin in the crook of her neck. 

“North,” Chloe said, needing a clear head to deal with all the strong personalities in the room. She extricated herself from her wife’s embrace, and as much as it pained her, walked in the opposite direction. “You’re right, Ace, I didn’t want you to know.”

“Even after all these years, I’m still just a little kid in your eyes,” Ace said, averting his own to look at the floor, “making you clean up my mess.”

“Glad to know I’m a mess,” Gavin spoke up, munching on his third sandwich.

“I wasn’t referring—”

“Ace,” Markus warned, trying to keep the peace, “not now.”

“Is there really nothing else we can do?” Ace asked, whirling on the doctor.

“Now he wants to get rid of me,” Gavin chirped again, his grin unkind, the flash of his teeth sharp enough to be comparable to Ace’s.

“Gavin—”

“Ace—”

“Both of you stop it—”

“North—”

“ _All of you_ stop it!” Markus said, his voice echoing in the small space, “I know this isn’t what anyone wanted, I know it’s a difficult decision for all four of you, but you must stop arguing and shifting the blame,” he continued, meeting their eyes one by one, “this was an accident, truly in every sense of the word—treat it as such.”

At the very least they looked well-reprimanded.

The doctor shut his bag, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm down. “Chloe, how soon do you think the court will take our case?”

“I can ask my PA, but next week probably,” Chloe answered, thankful for the distraction, “there’s a lot of paperwork,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

“Perfect, now we have a goal,” Markus said, returning to his genteel attitude, the tense line in his shoulders relaxing, “Gavin, please keep these out the light before you use them,” he continued, motioning to the _Venex_. Gavin nodded, taking the vials before he forgot. “I’ll be leaving now, take care of yourselves.”

Without their moderator, Chloe feared they’d devolve into chaos, so, she grabbed North’s hand and motioned to Ace with her head to follow. “I’ll be back tomorrow with everything,” Chloe said, meeting Gavin’s eyes.

“I’ll be here,” he said, picking at the hem of his shirt.

“Ace?” Chloe called when she noticed he’d remained stuck by the window. He followed her without another word, overcoming basic instinct by sheer will. It didn’t make their parting any less uncomfortable, or the ache in his throat lessen.

And judging by the way he caught Gavin scratching his bandaged wrist, he figured this next week wouldn’t be pleasant for him either.

* * *

“Here,” Chloe said, passing a box of doughnuts to Gavin and a glass of water, letting him decide what to do with them.

“What’s this?” Gavin asked even as he snuck his hand beneath the lid and grabbed the dessert.

“Incentive?” Chloe said with a shrug, “North always gets me sweet things when I’m doing something tedious, figured you might have the same reward system.”

Gavin nodded, fixing her with a pointed stare. “That was quite the power-play those two had yesterday,” he said through a chew. He’d felt it in his bones when Ace cowered under North’s admonishment, knew the smaller of the two had won.

“I’m sorry about that,” Chloe said, rubbing her neck, “vampires are very possessive, and don’t like their significant others threatened. I suppose when Ace began to accuse me, North took it upon herself to defend me.”

“Must be nice,” Gavin pondered, going for a second doughnut, taking advantage of his fast metabolism, “the closest thing I got to that was some prick thinking he was cute by cutting me off at dinner and ordering for me.”

Chloe chuckled, shaking her head. “It depends on the situation, and I’ve tried to remind her that not every rebuttal is an affront,” she said, taking her own doughnut, “I can no longer invite her to court hearings because she’s gotten a little too involved in a few of them.”

They took a moment to laugh at that, Chloe’s willingness to share a part of her life—as mundane as it seemed—endearing him further to her. She was like the big sister he’d never had, a comfortable shoulder to cry on despite her own faults.

Chloe began reading through the drudgery paperwork, underlying the important legalese, and transcribing it in plain English on a separate piece of paper. Gavin watched her work, his heart doing funny things in his chest.

This was real, this was happening, in less than a week he’d be the equivalent to hitched with a vampire he’d known more in theory than actual practice. He wondered if now would be appropriate to call his mother, to ask if she still wasn’t disappointed in him.

“Do you have any questions, Gavin, you’re awfully quiet?” Chloe asked, splitting her attention between the document and the illegal drudge.

“Am I still officially myself when I sign this?” Gavin asked, his voice low like he feared to say it.

“Pardon?” Chloe asked, taken aback.

“Like, could I never marry anyone else, am I his husband too if I become his drudge?” Gavin clarified, unsure why he was going down this route of questioning. All this talk about it being legally binding, it crossed wires in his head he didn’t know existed.

“Oh god no, Gavin, no, you're not,” Chloe reassured, letting out a rush of air, “you’re not his, per se, you’re just bound to him by venom. But your life and his life don’t have to be connected outside of your feeds, if you don’t want it to be.”

“So, what you’re saying is, I can be Ace’s drudge and still have partners on the side?” Gavin said, suspicious of the answer.

“It’s not ideal,” she began, delicate on how she explained it, “you’ll outlive whatever human partner you choose, and you won’t be able to date a vampire because, even if you and Ace are just friends, that instinct to protect you is strong, and it’d be nearly impossible for the other vampire to not be put off by Ace’s venom in you,” Chloe continued, her smile faltering, “so, I’m not saying it’s impossible, but you’d have to be comfortable with losing many people you love or watch them grow old, as you stay the same.”

“So, I’m doomed to celibacy,” Gavin groused, crossing his arms.

“Now, I didn’t say that either,” Chloe returned, pinching Gavin’s arm, “it’s not ideal,” she repeated, “but it’s doable, I’ve seen it happen successfully. I suppose it’s about how much you try to make it work.”

“I guess,” Gavin grumbled, picking at his next doughnut, “how did you make it work? I mean, being together with the same person for centuries, doesn’t that get tiring after a while?”

“It can be,” Chloe said, “there’s a large learning curve, and if your vampire’s resistant to it, it can make the process harder,” she continued, shining a light on their dilemma.

“Great,” Gavin mumbled.

“You’ll learn more with each feed,” Chloe comforted, her free hand going to Gavin’s bandaged wrist, “I’m sure you’ve already experienced the itch, that fire beneath the skin that doesn’t seem to go away until _after_ you’ve seen your vampire, made sure they’re fed?”

Gavin nodded, thinking it best to keep his previous stalking to himself.

“It’s an internal feeding clock, let’s you know when they’re hungry, or at least that’s its primary purpose. It gets more sensitive with age,” Chloe said, absentmindedly scratching her transparent mark. “It’s not all one-directional, though, the vampire gets something similar, learns to detect when their drudge is in danger, or when they’re being threatened by another vampire, or even if someone’s offended them. They’re more in tune with the drudge’s feelings of loneliness and displeasure. Rarely are a vampire and drudge pair at each other’s throats—pardon the pun.”

Gavin scoffed, shaking his head, “Any other secrets I should know?” he asked, already dreading the answer.

“You’ll become quite in tune with each other, regardless of your opinion on the matter,” Chloe said, returning her hand to the papers, “evolution has made it easier for us to get along, simpler still in your case.”

“I don’t think there’s anything simple about what happened to me, Chloe,” Gavin said, his eyes downcast.

“I agree completely,” she said, nodding once, “I fear my own desires may have been hidden from me, clouding my bias with their loveliness. I just wish it hadn’t damned another human in the process.”

“Do you truly consider it a damning?”

“For those who don’t want this, it is eternal damnation, you’ll live as long as your vampire lives,” Chloe said, her eyes sad, “and Ace comes from a very long line of very _old_ vampires.”

It was enough to chill him to the core, the entirety of eternity stretching before him difficult to conceptualize. He changed the subject, uncomfortable with the unknown. “Why did North bring up Ace’s family?”

Chloe tensed, her eyes shifting to her notes. “Ace’s bloodline isn’t entirely pure, his grandparents did some unsavoury things to thousands of humans,” Chloe said, a shiver running down her spine at the reminder, “guilt follows that child like a cloud, he’s afraid of becoming a sophisticated monster—just like they’d been.”

“Vampires aren’t the only ones capable of cruelty,” Gavin said, picking up the second to last doughnut from the baker’s dozen.

“I will not deny that,” Chloe said, flipping to the last page of the drudge contract, “ready to sign? This is nothing more than the pre-registration, so don’t worry, your soul isn’t on the line yet.”

Gavin chuckled, taking the pen from her hand. Despite her reassurances, it didn’t lessen the tremble in his fingers, the less-than-legible way he signed his name. She signed beneath him—her flowing script more appropriate for a museum than a contract. There was a blank space beneath her own, made prominent by the word ‘Vampire’ scribed beside it.

“I’ll get these notarized,” Chloe said, packing them neatly into her briefcase, “what would you like for lunch?”

“Surprise me.”

* * *

Chloe wasn’t one to hesitate by the mansion doors, it was as much her home as it was Ace’s. Her office was there, her old bedroom too, if she looked hard enough, some of North’s clothes might still be in the closet. But now, the large house looked uninviting, a self-fulfilling prophecy she was certain.

Ace hadn’t said much on their car ride back, his fingers curled around the steering wheel, tightening in increments each time he chanced a glance at her. She didn’t have to be a vampire to sense the sour nature of his discontent, of his indignation.

He didn’t spare her the time to speak when they arrived at the mansion, his shoulders stiff, face unreadable when he walked through the double doors, locking them from her, from the world. There she stood, looking past them, past her own righteous irritation, to the little boy inside, the same one who’d run and hide from his mother’s strict criticism, who’d clung to her skirts on more than one occasion, his body trembling with fear and sickness.

He’d been so small.

Chloe sighed, returning to North, to her soft embrace, her tender kisses, the only true relief she could find when Ace shut her out. She wasn’t deterred, far from it, but standing here again, it’s reminding she was only human—a very old one at that.

After a steadying breath, she let herself inside, eyes adjusting to the dark candlelight. The time was changing, slowly but surely, nights lasting longer, days getting shorter. Soon the year would be over, and another would take its place.

Chloe walked through the long corridors, meandering the reduced visibility with expert footing. She’d forgone her heels today, her usual _click-click_ more of a _pad-pad_.

After a long search, Chloe concluded Ace wasn’t in the house, but he was home, his workshop lit and loud from where she stood on the patio. She walked towards it, standing by the entrance, close enough to see what he was doing, far enough away to be unobtrusive. He was working on a car, and as Chloe looked closer, she recognized whose car it was. It put an inexplicable smile on her face noting how—despite its unwanted nature—Ace and Gavin’s tether was strong.

Ace paused, no doubt her scent had reached him. He finished taking the door off its hinges before he turned to look at her, eyes unreadable. “Hello, Chloe.”

“Hello, Ace.”

“I take it you’re here to make me sign something,” the vampire said, having no qualms showing just how annoyed he was by the idea.

“You know I wish I didn’t have to _make_ you do anything, Ace,” Chloe said, holding at bay the tears threatening to fall. She’s cried enough already, ruining more than just her mascara in the process.

The vampire’s entire form slouched, his head hanging low, chin-to-chest, hands trembling, no longer able to hold onto his emotions or the car door. “Why didn’t you tell me, Chloe?”

“What do you want me to say, Ace?” she answered with her own question, voice broken, “you knowing wouldn’t have helped the situation. If you knew, there’d be no way to defend you in court,” she said, “I didn’t think—I didn’t _know_ Gavin was hypersensitive, I figured we’d be able to convert him back without _anyone_ finding out.”

“Yet you brought me his blood,” Ace spat back, jaw clenched, fangs pulsing.

“I wasn’t going to let you starve,” Chloe said, her tone serious, face pressed into hard lines.

Ace sighed, knowing one day he’d appreciate the sacrifice, but not today—not for a while. “I’d like to be alone for now, Chloe, you can use the rubber stamp for my signature,” he said, returning to the car, disassembling the other doors.

“I hope you know that I love you very much,” she said in lieu of a goodbye, leaving his workshop, aware that waiting for a reply would’ve been futile.

* * *

“Dinner’s almost done,” Chloe said, pulling breadsticks from the oven, “do you mind helping me set the table?”

Gavin stood in the middle of her living room—hands wrapped around a bottle of merlot. He’d only bought it ‘cause it sounded French, he didn’t even know if Chloe drank wine. She’d been kind enough to invite him for dinner, promising, without saying much, that’d it only be the two of them.

She was trying to make up for last time’s aborted breakfast, and despite his reassurances that they’d had bigger things to worry about and she shouldn’t feel guilty, she’d insisted, voice far too persuasive for him to outright refuse.

“Not at all,” Gavin replied, putting down the bottle, and washing his hands, drying them before he took the offered utensils and set the table for two. Chloe was right behind him with the food, a magnificent selection of pasta with homemade marinara sauce, garlic breadsticks, salad, and a perfectly round cheesecake.

“Normally, North would join me in spirit, but it’s nice to have someone who actually eats,” Chloe said, taking a seat across from Gavin, “thank you for the wine,” she continued, taking the bottle and winding a corkscrew into it, popping it out in one fluid motion. She separated equal amounts into their wine glasses, taking a whiff before sipping it, her tongue dancing against the bitterness. “Not bad,” she said, and her approval of his selection was enough to let him go of his breath like he’d passed a test.

“Do you always cook a feast?” Gavin asked, curious. There was enough to feed a football team, much less the two of them. But the appreciative rumble in his stomach didn’t complain about the excess, if anything, it took it as a challenge. He swirled the pasta around his fork, taking a mouthful, nearly melting at the taste. How had she managed to put the entirety of Italy on a plate?

“Most of the time, yes,” Chloe answered, “high-caloric demands and whatnot.”

“Of course,” Gavin said, “it’s delicious, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Chloe replied, her beauty amplified by her smile. It wasn’t as downcast as it’d been, though shadows still plagued her eyes, bags that spoke of sleepless nights hidden by a few dabs of makeup.

“Fuck you guys!” North shouted from the couch, turning her head to the duo with a sheepish grin, “sorry.” Chloe shook her head, ignoring her wife and her videogames.

“Tomorrow’s the big day,” Gavin said, his smile strained, “is everything ready?” he asked, approaching the end of his second plate.

Chloe nodded, cutting two generous pieces of cheesecake, and plating them, motioning for him to follow her. “Are you ready?” she asked after a breath, meeting his eyes whilst they navigated the rest of her home. They walked past an office, most likely North’s considering the disarray, to a set of stairs leading to a quiet library nook. Large plush reading chairs sat in the centre, a coffee table between them. She handed Gavin his portion, sitting in her favourite chair, encouraging Gavin to do the same.

“I guess I have no other choice,” Gavin answered, his throat itchy. The cake wasn’t helping, thick as it moved past his throat and into his stomach, cloying in a way that wasn’t comfortable.

“It’s never fun being forced to do something,” Chloe agreed, “you and Ace have that in common.”

“It’s not the only thing we have in common,” Gavin grumbled, putting away his half-finished dessert. He stood—far too anxious to sit still—and walked around the library, running his fingers on the hardbacks of well-loved books. He stopped by a portrait of a small child—his icy blue eyes familiar even through the paint. Chloe came to stand beside him, appreciating the art in silence.

“I’m not sure what forever feels like yet,” he admitted, side-eyeing his fellow drudge, “I suppose I won’t for a long time.”

“I’ve been alive six centuries, Gavin, and I still don’t know what forever means,” she said with a chuckle, “it’s part of the process—we’ll return to the Earth eventually.”

“That sounds both comforting and upsetting.”

“The truth often is,” Chloe said, nodding once, “that’s why lies seem like such sweet rapture.” Her words came from experience, anecdotal and sobering.

“Should I wear a tuxedo for tomorrow?” Gavin asked a joke, of course, just to change the course of their conversation.

“Please no, casual is just fine,” Chloe said, her laugh genuine, “I’ve seen people sign their contracts in pyjamas of all things.”

“I’ll go naked then.”

“No!” Chloe squealed, slapping Gavin’s arm, “just wear what you would to school or an interview, but don’t stress if you can’t find a pair of slacks.”

“Thank you, Chloe, I don’t think I’ve ever said that sincerely,” Gavin murmured. There was uncertainty in his heart, a beast that refused to settle, but he wasn’t sure how he would’ve managed to do this alone. Maybe he couldn’t have.

Despite the entire situation being less than ideal—as Chloe would’ve put it—he was thankful for her help, her guidance, her patience of all things, even her remorse, so palpable it still stung the back of his eyes.

It made this bearable, even if just barely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this household we stan only one blonde queen! WAIT no, TWO [I forgot about Simon]


	11. Instincts Become Us

Gavin adjusted his tie for the fourth time, his throat still tight and itchy. The bright light of the examination room—or as Gavin called it, the interrogation room—bled through the layers of his suit with the efficiency of air. He’d repurposed his interviewing clothes for his ‘not-marriage-but-more-legally-binding’ court appointment and was regretting not taking Chloe’s advice on dressing casually.

He’d been pulled aside, the court separating him from the vampire as a ‘customary safety inspection.’ From what Chloe explained, they were simply trying to make sure he wasn’t becoming a drudge against his will. Which was out of his control at this point, but he’d learn to bury that hatchet with due time.

“Name and date of birth?” one of the interrogators asked—a Doctor something or other. He had a severe countenance, the line from his eyebrows to the bridge of his nose a solid one as he squinted at Gavin. He was accompanied by another Doctor something or other, his expression kinder whilst he waited for an answer.

“Gavin Reed, October 7th,” the drudge-to-be replied, fiddling with the cuff of his suit, hating how its stiff material restricted his movement. He felt like he’d suffocate if he had to take another deep breath. The bandage around his wrist constricted at the action, reminding him not to bring too much attention to it, lest they get suspicious.

“We’ll be asking a series of questions, answer yes, no, or doesn’t apply,” the doctor continued, flipping to a separate page “Have you now, or in the past, accepted monetary compensation for becoming a drudge?”

I guess we’re just jumping in.

“No.”

“Have you now, or in the past, been coerced, bribed, or threatened to become a drudge?”

“No.”

“Are you, Gavin Reed, in the possession of all your mental faculties and are cognizant of your situation?”

“Yes.”

“Are you, Gavin Reed, consenting to this union?”

Here he hesitated. He had to, didn’t he? _Venex_ or not this wasn’t his choice to make, and much like a child surprise, the responsibility had been thrust into his harms prematurely.

He may have taken longer to answer than was appropriate because the nicer doctor put a hand to his shoulder, squeezing him lightly. “If you feel you’re in danger, we have services to protect you from repercussion,” he began, his other hand hovering over to his phone, “we can keep you safe if need be.”

“What?” Gavin asked, dumb, “no, I’m fine, I just—I’ve never had to do anything like this before, I’m still wondering if I’m doing the right thing.”

“You’re not obligated to follow through with anything, especially if you’re having doubts,” the doctor said, letting his hands drop, “this can always be postponed until you’ve made up your mind.”

“That’s the problem, though,” Gavin murmured, rubbing his neck, “I’m not sure I ever will.”

The doctor nodded as if he understood, “Then take your time, we can resume at another date—”

“Wait,” Gavin interrupted, his heart twisting terribly, “I consent.”

The doctors exchanged a look, the one asking the initial questions jotted it down looking like he couldn’t have cared either way what happened to any of them.

“If there ever comes a point during all of this where you’ve changed your mind,” the nicer of the two began as the other doctor filed the papers away, “ask for a recess and tell one of the guards—we’re here for your safety, Mr. Reed, not the vampire’s.”

Gavin nodded, feeling awkward with such protection. He couldn’t imagine being stupid enough to waltz into a courtroom and commit a crime.

“Now, don’t be alarmed, we’ll have to obtain a sample of your blood and run it through a few tests,” began the kinder doctor, “it won’t take up too much time,” he reassured, placing the supplies next to Gavin.

“I’m used to it by now,” Gavin said, shrugging as he rolled up his right sleeve, mindful of the left. The other doctor rolled his eyes, accepting the test tubes from his partner. They listened in silence as the machine whirred to life and processed the samples. Whatever it spat out must have been acceptable because the doctors nodded and wheeled it away, writing a few notes on their pads as they waited for Gavin to readjust himself.

“Good news is you can proceed to the courtroom,” the more talkative of the two said, leading them to the waiting area.

“What’s the bad news?” Gavin asked out of habit.

“This could take all day,” he replied, his smile apologetic. Gavin nodded, having had that warning from Chloe as well. She’d prepared him for this ever since he’d signed the papers.

Venex coursed in his veins from the shot he’d given himself that morning, so the sight of Ace approaching with Chloe didn’t instill in him the peace it normally did. The itchiness had abated to a random twinge every few minutes, manageable if he ignored it.

“How’d it go?” Chloe asked, rubbing Gavin’s shoulders. She’d been all smiles since this morning—Gavin worried she might get stuck like that if he didn’t say something soon.

“I think I passed,” Gavin said, “they didn’t call drudge protective services or anything,” he joked, but it landed flat.

Chloe laughed—a mirthful sound wrung from her by the overflowing relief she’d been unable to quell for a few hours. Even North commented she’d tasted different during that morning’s feed.

Ace didn’t look amused, the silent observer to a fate he hadn’t had a choice in making. When Chloe brought the papers for him to sign, he still couldn’t believe this had come to pass. Never in his wildest nightmares had he envisioned this.

He hadn’t breathed properly since that moment, every instinct in him tried to convince his mind this was a good thing, but Ace roared his rejection—feeling the opposite of relieved. This was not how his life was meant to go, but at this point, there was nothing he could do to stop it. Ace had made a drudge out of Gavin, whether intentional or not, he had to take responsibility. And as with most mistakes, he wasn’t happy when faced with the consequences.

Chloe sat between them waiting for the judges to finish their ongoing ceremony, it was a small blessing—one she may have imparted on purpose. Ace always envied her astute precognition. Maybe if he’d had it, he would’ve been wise enough to foresee this. 

“Don’t look so glum,” Chloe said, taking one look at her charge and reading his mind.

Ace looked at her, his eyes sliding to Gavin and back, both waiting for a response. He didn’t offer anything—all he wanted to do was scream—figuring they’d appreciate his silence better than his discontent.

“I swear, Ace,” Chloe shook her head, not finishing her sentence. He heard the rest in his head though, _You’re a different breed._

The doors to the courtroom opened before they had a chance to overthink themselves to an early grave. A happy—if judging by their smiles—couple exited the room with an entire ensemble of bells and whistles from well-wishers, family, and friends.

Gavin adjusted his tie again, knowing he should’ve called his mom for this. He hadn’t because he didn’t want to worry her, but it just dawned in his stupid head that this was probably one of the few times he was supposed to.

Chloe clapped as she stood, turning to her son and his companion, her smile faltering when their dejection hit her. They looked like they’d rather be eating rocks than sitting next to each other.

“At least pretend you want to do this,” she said, “for the cameras, if nothing else.”

Gavin exchanged a look with the vampire, confused but not upset to find that their stubbornness rivalled their common sense. Maybe they were two halves of the same idiot. Gavin was just glad they were on even ground with their disgruntlement.

Chloe restrained her sigh, dipping into the courtroom. She didn’t want to stew in their pity-party.

“If things were different, would you have been legally allowed to refuse?” Gavin asked, rubbing his neck. For once it was a nervous tic and not an involuntary press of the bite-mark, still tender despite how long it’d been.

“Not in our case, not without penalty,” Ace said, blowing out a breath. He forced himself to look at Gavin and try to be civil, they’d be spending a lot of time together from now on, it’d be better if they started on a good note. “Drudgery laws were made to protect the human, it’s very rare that a vampire and human don’t want this. That’s why consent was important.”

“But what about your consent?” Gavin asked.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Ace snapped, his teeth clenched, “even if I refused, I’ve already converted you. I’d rather suffer this consequence than get de-fanged.”

“Glad to know marrying me is a consequence,” Gavin grumbled, crossing his arms. It only dawned on him—painfully slow—what he said. He felt humiliation cloud his mind, pinpricks of sweat appearing on his skin.

Ace narrowed his eyes, unsure if Gavin was serious or if his hearing had gone awry. “We’re not getting married,” Ace reminded, his tone dark and serious, “we’re signing a paper that says it’s okay for you to be my food—I hope that distinction is clear.”

Gavin swallowed, his heart skipping a few beats as it thrashed in his chest. Ace’s words shouldn’t have hurt as they did, but everything from the vampire’s hardened stare to the determined way he kept himself from getting closer to Gavin had him retreating into his corner, wishing he’d never learned to speak.

Ace mentally kicked himself—so much for being civil. He was sure he was the only vampire in existence to refuse a drudge. If his ancestors were still alive, they’d be ashamed—his parents would probably disown him for a second time.

And Connor? It might be enough to convince him to follow their lead.

It’d been a few days since he’d fed, it couldn’t be helped if his emotions ran a bit hot. Before this, it wouldn’t have been an issue, but now his body burned through its reserves quicker because it was expecting more. A banquet of _more_ , an endless supply—

The sound of Chloe’s heels persuaded them to look up, breaking Ace’s derailing thoughts. She held two large folders in her arms, urging them to stand and follow her. “Birth certificates,” she clarified before they had a chance to ask, “for legal reasons.”

“How did—” Gavin began and immediately stopped when they walked into the courtroom. He should’ve known she’d find out eventually, but damn if Gavin wasn’t hoping it was much, much later. “Hi, mom.”

“Uh-huh,” Ms. Reed said, her jaw tense, “hello Gavin.” She had the wrath of God in her eyes, and only by a miracle was she containing it. Gavin tread carefully, knowing one wrong move and it’d be over for all of them.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone light as if this was a pleasant surprise and not a heart-attack-inducing catastrophe.

“You know, giving parental representation so my only child can get hitched to a vampire,” she began, her grey eyes like steel, “the usual.”

“Glad to have you,” he said, feeling small under her stare.

“It’s not like your father would’ve shown up,” she said, shaking her head, a familiar ache in her chest. She approached Gavin and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, glad he was okay, that he looked okay. When the pretty lawyer lady had called her to tell her what happened she nearly passed a kidney stone. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Ms. Reed whispered, smoothing out her son’s hair and readjusting his tie.

“Do I ever?” Gavin joked, feeling like he’d self-combust.

“I’m serious,” she warned, holding up a finger.

Ace watched them from a polite distance, Chloe already out of earshot as she prepared their papers. Ms. Reed was a head shorter than her son but had a commanding presence, nonetheless. They shared many features, though hers were rounded to complement her femininity. She was as beautiful as she was intimidating—and Ace wasn’t at all surprised to find Gavin’s heart racing under her careful attention.

As if she knew he was studying her, Ms. Reed turned to face the vampire, narrowing her eyes. “I’m sure some of this was Gavin’s fault,” she began, semi-apologizing like it was middle school all over again, “but if you hurt him, I’ll pull your fangs out myself.”

Ace didn’t think it appropriate to respond and just watched her walk away and sit in her designated seat. He could feel Gavin staring, could hear the shift in his suit as he brought himself to his side.

“She’s normally nicer than that,” he mumbled, biting his lips until they were raw and bloody.

“Her threats are endearing but not unwarranted,” Ace said, his fangs stinging from the sight of red, “I wish you had her sense of self-preservation.”

“Stop trying to scare me,” Gavin grumbled, “if it hasn’t worked yet, it probably won’t work.”

Before Ace could say that he was serious, that Gavin’s safety was in jeopardy any time his veins pumped blood back to his heart, the judge banged his gavel, asking for order in the court.

“Would Gavin Reed please make his way to the front,” said the human judge.

There was another bang of the gavel, this time from the vampiric judge, before he said, “Would Ace Richardson please make his way to the front.”

Chloe laid out their papers so neither was confused about where to stand. The judges sat high above them, or it could’ve been a trick of the light—Gavin wasn’t sure—but they made for daunting figures as they watched them get settled.

“Richardson?” the vampiric judge hummed, tapping his ageless chin. He read through Ace’s birth certificate—the infamous name attached to an exciting lineage. “This must be familiar to you, yes?”

Ace’s blood ran cold, a small twitch developing in his eye, straining to keep his composure. He should ignore the judge’s jibe—Chloe always reminded him his family’s sins weren’t his own, he shouldn’t have to atone for them as they did.

“Stephon, please, no side conversations,” the human judge said. Something in his tone had Ace guessing this was a common occurrence. “If we’re all ready to begin, please take your seats.”

Despite the minor hiccup in the beginning, they proceeded smoothly through the rest of it. It was boring Gavin half to death, but he managed to stay awake enough to answer the questions to the best of his ability. There was a lot to go through, and Gavin was starving by the time they got to their first break.

He slipped out of the courtroom and rushed towards the cafeteria, making a face at his options. Settling on a fruit smoothie he hoped would last him the rest of the day, he returned to the lobby, sipping at the straw with some satisfaction. Gavin paused, looking at the back of Ace’s head whilst Chloe embraced him. She patted his head, trying to calm the shakes in his tense shoulders.

“I can’t do this,” Ace growled, shaking his head, “every vampire in that courtroom knows about my family.”

“I know, but you have to ignore them,” Chloe said, putting him at arm's length so she could look at him, “listen, we’re almost done, just two signatures and you’ll never have to see them again,” she promised, caressing his cheek.

“I hope you’re right,” Ace murmured, his spirit defeated. There was no fight left in him, he felt too old for his age, too weathered by a past that’d preceded his birth. Yet, he couldn’t shuck his birthright anymore than he could his vampirism. His only hope was to fade back into obscurity, now with an eternal supply of food in tow.

Speaking of which, his soon-to-be legal companion approached, his lips and hands wet from his discarded drink. He reeked of guilt and doubt, hitting the back of Ace’s tongue with a bitter tang. If Ace could sense him again, it meant the _Venex_ was wearing off, which could complicate things if any other vampire noticed.

“Did you bring any extra medicine?” Ace asked, pulling Gavin aside before he returned to the courtroom.

“No,” Gavin said, raising a brow, “why?”

Ace dipped his head involuntarily, taking another whiff of his drudge. He could feel his fangs ache and his mouth water, his stomach reminding him of the days-long deficit to his nutrition. “You should’ve,” he grumbled, yanking himself away from the human. His scent was like standing in the middle of a buffet and being told you couldn’t eat.

“I still feel normal, so, we should be okay for now,” Gavin reassured even as his body warmed and itched from their proximity. The tiniest of black tendrils began at the creases of Ace’s eyes, a worrisome sign promising something darker. It had Gavin’s pulse quaking in his veins. “Probably should’ve stocked up on some blood bags for the week,” he said, more to himself than the vampire.

“It’s fine, _I’m_ fine,” Ace said, admittedly not fine, “besides, _Venex_ is toxic to vampires,” he continued before they returned to their spots. He looked paler than a ghost and seemed to be counting his breaths, following commands robotically and answering questions with a clenched jaw, his fangs peeking through if he opened his mouth too wide.

Gavin seemed to be the only one to notice, even the vampiric judge had taken to ignore Ace’s renewed coldness. He was so engrossed in the vampire’s small tics that he jumped when they dropped a heavy object on his desk. It was a black booklet, like the one they’d given him for his diploma. The front was embossed with a symbol of a crown in gold, little details adorning the edges. Gavin opened it, his drudge certificate staring back at him in black calligraphy.

He read the small print, Ace’s voice taunting him, reminding him that this wasn’t a marriage but unable to view it any other way when it said _the coupling of two species, under the law, until death do them part._

Gavin felt like he was wading through concrete as he forced his limbs to cooperate with the pen to lift it and put the tip to paper. The world seemed to zone out for a moment, and he wondered if he’d soon wake up from some awful fever dream, or if he’d died between feeds and this was his eternal damnation.

“Mr. Reed?” the human judge asked, sounding like he’d called Gavin’s name a few times, “are you ready to consent?”

Gavin looked up, spooked. He returned to himself, albeit slowly, and nodded—pushing against his pen until ink flowed and he signed on the dotted line next to his name, startling when the legally appointed witness took his hand, apologizing for his sudden intrusion.

“Just a small prick,” he said, sanitizing Gavin’s finger before he pressed a sterile needle to his index, and pushed it against an empty box, binding the contract in his blood. He placed a transparent sticker over it and closed the book, switching spots with the other legally appointed witness.

They presented him with Ace’s book, his insignia two staffs crossing to form an X. Gavin opened it, Ace’s signature blending into the cursive of the other text, his blood a darker shade of red than Gavin’s. He repeated the action of signing and sealing, stuffing his finger in his mouth to calm the ache.

The judges beat their gavels for a final time, directing them to stand. “We now pronounce you vampire and drudge, may you live a long and productive life,” they declared, “this session is now complete, please proceed calmly to the exit.”

Chloe appeared out of nowhere, squeezing them both into a tight hug, her excitement intoxicating as ushered them out of the courtroom. She didn’t notice how Ace was holding his breath, the tendrils around his eyes growing larger, wrapping around his eyes, down his cheeks, and around his temples. But Gavin did, and every second that passed was one that brought them closer to an inevitable accident.

To make matters worse, Gavin’s mother decided now was the perfect time to join them, unshed tears in her eyes. She was saying something, but Gavin couldn’t focus on anything else when his attention was arrested by the itch in his body returning with a vengeance. Why did he think a single dose of _Venex_ was enough to last him the whole day?

“Could you excuse us a second?” Gavin said, trying to hide his panic as he pulled himself and Ace out of the women’s death grip and booked it out of the courtroom, attempting to look unhurried. He located the nearest bathroom, thankful for the small grace of whatever God was listening when he realized it doubled as a changing room and therefore could afford them some privacy. 

Gavin locked it, his heart pounding a terrible rhythm in his chest. He took a few deep breaths before he turned around, facing the vampire and his poor attempt of control as his eyes took on that darkness that shouldn’t have been as provoking as it was.

“We’re alone now,” Gavin whispered, stepping closer.

“Stop,” Ace warned, his fangs making it hard to enunciate.

“You’re hungry,” Gavin insisted, ignoring his vampire’s protests. They were a unit now, Ace could abstain all he wanted, but Gavin was well within his right to force-feed him if he had to. Which he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. It reminded him too much of that night in Ace’s room, how they’d pushed each other’s limits.

“I’m glad we both have eyes,” Ace said, turning to the sink and shrinking at his reflection. It bit back at him how truly unhinged he was, the dark veins around his eyes unsightly to any self-respecting vampire. If anyone saw him like this, they’d lose all respect for him—feeding frenzies were for starving criminals and teenagers, not a man with accolades collecting dust on his shelves. He pressed against one of the veins, massaging it into his skin, and hissing when it sprang right back.

“Ace don’t be stupid,” Gavin snapped, stomping a foot, “here,” he offered, pulling out his arm and showing his bandaged wrist. He cursed, undoing the binds with shaky fingers.

The vampire couldn’t help how venom flowed from his fangs, glistening obscenely in the low light. This close, he could smell the blood from Gavin’s closing wound, and it did him no favours. He wrapped his long fingers around Gavin’s, stilling his hands.

“Don’t,” Ace said, redoing the bandage, “you don’t have to.”

“Please,” Gavin implored, pushing Ace against the sink and a hard place, “at least take enough to calm down,” he said, changing tactics.

The vampire shook his head, fearing if he started now, he wasn’t gonna stop until he was full. Unfortunately, Gavin had other ideas, bringing himself even closer, their bodies touching now. Ace was impossibly cold, and Gavin felt as if he were running a fever, each levelling the other out through entropy.

Gavin was careful when taking Ace’s face in his hands, his thumbs pressing against his lips, moving them up, the pad of one of them rubbing against a fang, reaching its tip, and pushing. The incisor had no problems pricking through the skin, its anticoagulant properties aiding to the large drop of blood as it welled then fell to Ace’s bottom lip.

Ace’s tongue was quicker than his mind and it darted out, reaching for it like a dying man did their last moments of life. “Stop, Gavin please,” Ace begged, clinging to the sink hard enough to dent it.

“Why?” Gavin asked, “why are you holding back, it’s like you get off on torturing yourself,” Gavin whispered, feeling the vampire’s breath ghost over his thumb, shivering from the tension. “Suffer then,” he said, pulling away, an inferno ripping through his chest with the action.

Ace stopped him, fingers digging into his bicep. Gavin should’ve known from previous experience not to run away from a vampire, but here he was, committing the same sins.

“I could never forgive myself if I killed a human,” Ace said, his voice rough and gravelly, “much less my drudge.”

“I’m yours now?” Gavin tried to mock but it came out shaky, unsure. He turned to look at Ace, needed to see the battle behind his red eyes. Denying oneself seemed painful if the vampire’s twisted features were anything to go by.

Ace grunted, not able to trust his voice. He prided himself on his self-control, but it was wearing thin, the cramped space growing saturated with Gavin’s scent—his _true_ scent—with each second. His head fell to the junction between Gavin’s neck and shoulder, mouthing the clothed skin. He twisted them around, so he had something to press Gavin into, the counter a good a place as any to keep them steady. Gavin’s shudder went through him like it was his own, betraying his body heat. Ace’s fingers worked on their own accord, loosening Gavin’s tie and undoing the first buttons of his dress shirt.

The welt had purpled and scarred through time, standing out against the rest of Gavin’s fair skin. It looked painful to the touch, so he was careful when he brushed his fingers against it, the pulse reaching up to meet him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Gavin,” Ace said, closing his eyes but unable to pull away, frozen in indecision, “we should just let Chloe continue to draw your blood, it’s worked so far.” Every word was stilted, punctuated by a pause between the syllables.

“You’ll hurt me more if you don’t bite me now,” Gavin said, gasping each breath, “everything is on fire, I can only imagine how you feel.” He was bracing himself against the counter, sweating bullets beneath his suit.

Their eyes met in the low light—mutual understanding clear as day.

“Gavin—”

A knock at the door interrupted whatever the vampire had wanted to say, and instinct forced him into Gavin’s jaw, holding his fangs at bay by the small flicker of intelligence that prevailed in his mushy brain.

“It’s occupied,” Gavin managed to call, his heart in his mouth. “Your restraint is very impressive, Ace, but fucking stupid,” Gavin breathed, taking matters into his own hands by winding his fingers into the vampire’s hair, forcing him down the rest of the way, sighing when he met no resistance.

It still took the vampire a moment to let nature do the driving. The first gush of blood in his mouth shocked him, it was like he’d never known taste before like colours had been grey, and scents dull—a monochromatic existence torn down by the simple act of feeding.

With renewed strength and confidence brought about instinct, he dipped Gavin’s head further to the opposite side, sinking his fangs as deep as they’d go, fitting himself between his legs.

They were quite close now, nothing but their clothes separating them. Gavin was clinging to the vampire, his own face buried in his chest. He felt the fever in his body exit through the four puncture holes in his neck, slowly replaced by that otherworldly calmness. It made it easier to relax against Ace, to let himself be manipulated into a more comfortable position.

He had goosebumps travelling through both his arms, and he was sure his face was bright red, each moment he was pressed this close reminding him it’d been a while since he’d been embraced like this. Scratch that, he’d _never_ been embraced like this.

Ace came to his senses in sections, pieces of him slotting themselves in their rightful place. By the time he was whole again, he was painfully aware of the awkward position he’d put them in, squishing Gavin as he was against the counter. He pulled away, retracting his fangs, and licking at the puncture wounds to close them.

Gavin’s gasp was only audible because they were close, muted as it’d been. Ace made sure to hold the drudge before looking at him, meeting his wide eyes and pinpoint pupils with a small click of his tongue.

“I’m sorry,” Ace apologized, re-doing Gavin’s buttons, and tying his tie, the double-Windsor holding his collar high enough to hide the growing welt.

“You apologize too much,” Gavin said, feeling his tongue wade through honey as he said it, “I need a second,” he said, resting his heavy head on Ace’s chest.

“Take as many as you need,” the vampire said, clamping down on a foreign urge to run his hands through Gavin’s hair.

They both jumped at the knock on the door, the second one in the last ten minutes. They really should get out of the bathroom.

“Are you two alright in there?” Chloe asked, the sound of her muffled voice worried even through the wood.

“Perfectly well, Chloe,” Ace said, feeling Gavin’s snort. At least for him, it hadn’t been a lie, Gavin’s blood the cure-all to his most severe ailment—hunger. “Are you okay now?” Ace asked, putting Gavin at arm’s length once more.

“I just wanna sleep,” Gavin said, fighting with his lids so they’d remain open enough to look at the vampire, “haven’t been able to sleep well since you fired me.”

“Then considered yourself rehired,” Ace sighed, curtailing the roll of his eyes.

“Yay,” Gavin said, his head falling once more against Ace’s chest. A magnetar. The vampire had no choice but to half-guide, half-carry the human out of the bathroom, Chloe’s face unimpressed when they emerged.

“I take it this couldn’t wait,” she guessed, helping him with Gavin’s other side, though it was more so she could interrogate Ace without him being able to run away.

“I ran out of blood a week ago,” Ace admitted, not mentioning how it’d coincided with his discovery that Gavin had been his drudge. His nerves had forced him through his supply, seeking safety in the familiar despite the strange taste of nothing.

“And you didn’t tell me because...”

“Because I thought I could handle it,” Ace said, side-eyeing her, “that is what you wanted to hear, right?”

“Don’t be mean,” Gavin grumbled, feeling drunk, “she’s a great woman.”

“I hope you’re talking about me,” Ms. Reed said, recognizing a venom overload when she saw it. Though not immediately alarming, she still narrowed her eyes at the vampire, running a hand through Gavin’s hair. Chloe excused herself, running down the courthouse steps to fetch the SUV.

“Hey mom,” Gavin slurred, opening one eyelid, “missed you.”

“Missed you too, Gav-Gav,” Ms. Reed said, rounding on the vampire, “not even a day joined, and you’ve already savaged him.” Ace didn’t deny it, which held enough culpability to label him guilty as charged.

“No mom, please don’t make a scene,” Gavin begged, his eyes flying open, “not here at least.”

Ms. Reed, held her tongue, obliging her son’s request to keep the peace, at least for the moment. They exited the courthouse, her small arms holding Gavin’s waist whilst the vampire held him up, opening the back door to the SUV. He waited for Ms. Reed as she said her goodbyes.

“If you need me to stay just ask,” Ms. Reed said, pressing a kiss into her son’s hair.

“I’m fine,” Gavin grumbled, “promise,” he continued, cheeks bright.

“I do hope you know what you’re doing,” Ms. Reed mumbled to herself, letting a sigh exit her chest, “next time you do something life-changing, don’t hide it behind hypothetical questions,” she said, placing a big kiss on his forehead.

“Hmm,” Gavin hummed, already curled into a ball.

“Thank you, Ms. Reed,” Ace said, holding out a hand to his drudge’s mom, knowing he wasn’t making the best of first impressions.

“It’s Carolina,” she said, taking his hand out of public decency, “I know he’s a pain, but he’s still my son, so just remember what I said.”

“I wouldn’t dare forget it,” Ace said, knowing when to humble himself. He didn’t enter the SUV until he watched Carolina drive away, made sure she’d made it safely to the main road, and was out of sight. Climbing into the back, he thought it best to sit by Gavin whilst the man slept, lest he rolled out of his seat with one of Chloe’s less-than-graceful red-light stops.

Chloe watched them through the rear-view, her smile half-contained by the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIYA, for those of you who remember the original, tell this wasn't a better way to end. Though there's something incredibly satisfying about being DENIED, I also think it's woefully MORE satisfying to GIVE IN after a million and one years apart. OH BOY OH BOY. 
> 
> NOW, THIS IS WHY I LOVE THE RE-WRITE, I hope you all enjoy it as well.


	12. Family Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little back to basics chapter :)

“Watch your head,” Ace said, helping Gavin out of the car, who was still half-asleep, his steps clumsy, eyesight blurry. He led them back to Gavin’s apartment, Chloe staying behind to keep the car running. It was as painless as getting Gavin through the elevator and then the threshold of his home, depositing him like a sack on top of his mattress.

“I’m so tired,” Gavin groaned, getting comfortable in the middle of the bed. He curled and stretched, laying on his stomach with a pillow tucked beneath his chin.

“Then sleep,” Ace said, taking a step back.

Gavin twisted his head to the side, opening one eye so he could look at the vampire. “Can’t sleep with monsters nearby,” he teased, his loopy smile growing into a grin when Ace frowned, “kidding, kidding, stop taking yourself so seriously.” Ace would’ve rebutted, but the drudge decided now was the best time to resume his catnap.

The vampire sighed, turning on a heel to march out of the room, through the living room, and then the front door—hoping the younger man would wake soon to lock it.

* * *

Gavin didn’t rouse from his slumber until the call of nature screamed its alarm, forcing him from the wondrous nothingness of sleep, into the rather cold room. He shivered—his courtroom clothes too thin. Relieving himself, he thought it best if he completed the task of getting ready for the night, and hopped into the shower, groaning when the hot water hit his head, cascading down his neck.

He rubbed at the mark, hissing at the sting of long-gone teeth. When Ace bit, Gavin could tell he tried to be gentle, but those were needles puncturing his neck, nearly the size of his pinky when fully extended—it wasn’t any wonder he was sore in the aftermath.

Gavin washed the area, his muscles twitching each time he grazed it with the washcloth. He needed a massage, tense as he’d been, he probably had knots within knots. But his skin was so tender, and just the thought of someone’s hands on it made him recoil.

Finishing his shower, he dried himself off, jumping when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His entire shoulder, down to his arm, and halfway across his chest, was bright red, his neck being dark enough to call it purple. He touched the bitemark, gasping when his pulse bounced, far too sensitive.

So much for that beach body.

Like a bad sunburn, Gavin guarded his skin, rummaging through his cabinets for aloe vera and begrudgingly lathering it into the worst parts of his reaction. The cool cream helped reduce the inflammation, but it left him shivering, too many sources of stimuli for him to get comfortable.

Ignoring and enduring, he walked through his living room, detouring to the front door to check if his delivery service still did good on their promise of punctuality. Relieved to see his food sitting by the door, Gavin brought it in one by one, locking the door when he finished.

He snacked on the discarded pieces of vegetable not making it into the pot, sautéing the ones that did, pulling out a mixing bowl that doubled as his serving size. Shooting his mom a text that he was home and safe, he settled to watch television for the rest of the night, numbing his mind from the stress of the last few months.

* * *

“Good morning,” Gavin said bright and early the next day, standing at the threshold of Ace’s door like he hadn’t for many weeks.

“Morning,” Ace said, dressed down in only a black dress shirt and matching slacks, “come in.” He stepped aside enough to let the drudge through, trying his best not to inhale as he walked past.

“Good morning, Gavin,” Chloe said, coming out of the hallway that led to the kitchen, her apron pristine despite the fact she managed to get a streak of flour on her face. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Always,” Gavin said, his stomach agreeing with a grumble.

“I’ll be in the common room,” Ace said, already walking away.

And just like that, things were back the way they were. If Gavin didn’t think about it too hard, he could pretend this was just his job—blood donations, how quaint.

Chloe led them into the kitchen, breakfast plated for two on the counter. At least she understood the dilemma of his serving sizes and had no qualms stacking the pancakes a mile high. She had more grace digging into her own serving, but a drudge’s appetite was seldom quenched on the best of days.

“Do _you_ want to tell me what happened yesterday?” Chloe asked, serving herself another stack of pancakes, drowning them in blueberry syrup with a side serving of strawberries.

Gavin choked on his inhale, downing the orange juice to dislodge the ball of food stuck in his throat. “ _What_?” he asked, tears welling in his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. “When?”

“Ace gave me his side of the story, and as always it’s barren of details,” she said after a careful chew, “I’d like to hear yours.”

“Nothing happened,” Gavin reassured, rubbing his face to dissipate the ridiculous blush, “he just had these black veins growing around his eyes, and the last time I saw those was when he had UV poisoning. So, I don’t know, I kinda took it upon myself to fix it.”

“He was going into a feeding frenzy?” Chloe asked, cocking her head.

“Feeding frenzy?” Gavin parroted, his eyebrows brushing his hairline, “what the hell is that?”

“It’s a very primal coping mechanism to the smell of blood, it reduces logical thought, and makes their solitary focus to seek blood and feed,” Chloe said, narrowing her eyes, “it precedes a feeding mania, wherein the vampire loses all control and is stuck in a boot-loop until they’re fed,” she continued, sounding like a textbook.

Gavin gulped, his appetite wavering at the thought of a feral vampire. It had the primate in him running for the hills.

“He should be past that, though,” Chloe said, rubbing her chin, “frenzies are seen in juvenile or malnourished vampires—not vampires like Ace.” Chloe looked at him again, wondering what it was about Gavin that had her son regressing.

“What?” the drudge asked, uncomfortable under her stare.

“I just realized there’s a lot you still have to learn,” Chloe said, changing the subject, “though not mandatory, the courts do suggest you take a class in drudgery to learn the basics.”

“More homework, Chloe?” Gavin groaned, resuming his breakfast.

“I’ll go with you,” she reassured, rubbing his arm, “we didn’t have these things when I became a drudge, it might do _me_ some good to learn how things have changed.” Gavin couldn’t refuse then, his mind made up for him. “I’ll register us for a class as soon as we’re done here,” she promised, her smile bright.

Gavin nodded, helping her clean the kitchen when he finished with his own breakfast. They walked towards the foyer together, Chloe stepping into her office to commence working on her cases.

“Will you be here a while?” Gavin asked, hoping she would say yes.

“Yes, unless you wanted more privacy,” she said, a tease dancing in her tone.

Why was he blushing again?

“No, I just, I’m glad you’re here,” Gavin said, a small smile tugging at his lips, “as rocky as it’s been, it’s nice to have someone who understands.”

“Of course, Gavin, anytime,” Chloe said, bowing her head.

Gavin left her to her work, meandering down the hallway to the feeding room. He hadn’t been in there for so long that it was foreign again, the anxious bubble building in his chest threatening to pop the closer he got.

It fizzled out when he saw the vampire, watched as he waited with his hands steepled over his legs, his pawn pushed forward two places. He tracked Gavin whilst he rounded the chess table and sat down, silent when he moved his own pawn two places.

Ace’s smile was small but relieved, the tight line of his shoulders relaxing as he looked for holes in Gavin’s strategy, moving around the board with the efficiency of a machine, overpowering his opponent. Gavin’s frustration was well warranted then, and at least his anger was directed at the game and not at him.

“Where are you going?” Ace asked after their tenth round. Gavin had stood, the blood in his veins burning hot, and pushed his chair back, pout full and indignant.

“To get some ammunition,” Gavin called back, marching to Chloe’s office. She’d had the door ajar, so he knocked, waiting for her response.

“Come in,” she said, looking up from her computer to Gavin, “is everything okay?” she asked, noting his immediate displeasure.

Gavin took a deep breath, feeling like a little kid when he asked, “Can you help me with something?”

The blonde tilted her head, saving the progress on her work before she stood, “It depends on what it is?” she said, accompanying Gavin as he began his testy advance to the feeding room.

“Ace is cheating at chess,” Gavin said, petulant. 

“Oh, I see,” Chloe said with a wink.

As if they were all on the same frequency, Ace still sat by the board, his first piece moved forward two places. He looked suspicious of their plus one, resetting the board at her behest.

“Would you like to start?” Ace asked Gavin, watching as he took the seat, Chloe standing by him like a guardian angel.

The drudge looked to her, accepting her nod as his own confirmation. “You have an advantage if you start first,” she said, watching her charge move his own piece. “No, don’t do that one, you’ll leave yourself open,” Chloe said, pointing to the pieces, “until you develop a strategy, you need to think about protecting your pieces first and attacking him second.”

“Yeah, okay, I see,” Gavin said, moving as she directed him.

Ace looked like he was about to say something but bit his tongue, his brain working overtime to accommodate two opponents.

“Move this one,” Chloe said, her mind like a battle map, calculating all the outcomes of each decision, both hers and Ace’s.

“Chloe,” the vampire warned, feeling the heat of her advancement.

“Hush, you’re always on the offensive,” Chloe said, helping Gavin capture Ace’s last knight, “and that only works on neophytes.”

“All’s fair,” Gavin hummed, much to Ace’s chagrin.

The vampire took his time moving his next piece, still protecting his king, but only just. At this point, Chloe was physically moving the pieces, explaining her decisions to Gavin as she made them, pointing out the weaknesses in Ace’s defences and even her own.

They were both down to their queen and king, dancing around each other on the board before Ace gave up and overtook Gavin’s queen and had his devoured by the king.

“It’s a draw,” Chloe declared, clapping her hands, “well done Gavin.”

“I didn’t do shit,” he said, all smiles for the blonde. It grew wider at Ace’s grumble and subsequent pout, looking more like a child than a sophisticated professor.

“You did enough,” Chloe said, patting his head, “now, my turn,” she said, kicking Gavin out of his seat. It wasn’t even a minute before Chloe called check. They’d moved so fast around the board, Gavin got whiplash trying to keep up.

“Checkmate,” Chloe said, her smile bright. Ace sighed, resetting the board, he didn’t know why he tried at this point, he’d never beat her, not even when she’d ‘taken it easy’ on him.

“See, now you know how it feels,” Gavin said, rounding the table so he could see the game from Ace’s perspective.

“Don’t mock him, Gavin,” Chloe said, calling check between her pause, “he’ll never let you win if you do.”

“Will you let me win?” Gavin asked Chloe, far too happy seeing Ace lose to care if he got his ass beat—again.

“You learn nothing if I let you win,” Chloe said, calling checkmate, “it’s a rule I have.”

“Can I play against you?” Gavin asked, leaning over Ace’s shoulder to look closer at how she moved, he didn’t notice how the vampire stiffened beside him, his eyes shifting from the board to his exposed collarbone.

“Are you sure about that?” Chloe asked, kicking Ace beneath the table. The vampire jumped, shaking his head before he doubled down on the game, shrinking away from his drudge. It was to no avail, Chloe checkmated him in the next move, shaking his hand as he stood from his seat, letting Gavin take his place. He watched them from afar, doing his best impersonation of a statue.

“Oh my god, Chloe, you’re brutal,” Gavin said, already on his fifth loss.

“I’m sure you’ll get better with age,” Chloe said, sliding around the board like she was on skates, “I did.”

“I quit,” Gavin said, taking her outstretched hand as a sign of good sportsmanship even in his defeat. “Is there anyone that can beat _you_?” he asked as a joke, resetting the board before standing.

“I think Connor beat me a few times,” Chloe said out loud, rubbing her chin, “and Markus.”

“Not North?” Ace asked, surprised.

“She doesn’t play,” Chloe said, “though I’m sure she’d do great, she has the advantage after all.”

“Wait, who’s Connor?” Gavin asked, doubling back on the unknown name.

“How rude, Ace,” Chloe tutted, shaking her head, “it’s his older brother, hard to miss, he looks just like him.”

The vampire sighed, not thinking that divulging his family tree was mandatory. “Pray you never meet him,” Ace grumbled, taking his seat on the sofa.

Chloe chuckled, knowing not to poke the bear further. “I’ll leave you two to it,” she said, standing with the grace of a victor, “Gavin, I’ll be finished earlier today, so lunch will be in the fridge when you’re done,” she continued as an afterthought. They both nodded, waiting until she was gone to look at each other.

Gavin rounded the couch, sitting with a sigh. He undid his bandages, flexing his fist before he rolled up his sleeve, wincing at the still-tender flesh.

“Are you sure you don’t want Chloe to just draw your blood?” Ace asked, pressing his cool fingers against Gavin’s wrist, his pulse strong and steady. The contrast between them brought to the forefront how pink Gavin’s skin was beneath Ace’s light fingers.

“It’s the same difference,” Gavin said through a breath.

“Was your father a hybrid?” Ace asked, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb into Gavin’s irritated flesh. He hoped his cooler-than-average temperature helped soothe some of the ache.

“Yes,” Gavin said, narrowing his eyes, “why do you ask?”

“Just proving a theory,” Ace said, lowering his mouth to Gavin’s wrist, careful not to bite too deeply.

“Is that what you do in your spare time?” Gavin asked, settling into a more comfortable position, “when you’re not beating me in chess, of course.” Ace looked up, raising a brow despite the laziness in his gaze. “I’m sure your curiosity has gotten you in trouble in the past.” The vampire hummed, agreeing.

Vibrations shocked through Gavin’s arm, making him twitch. It bumped Ace’s fangs further into his wrist, drawing a hiss from them both.

“Gavin,” the vampire growled, “you have to keep still.” He managed to enunciate as best he could with a mouthful.

“Your voice is ticklish,” the drudge retorted, screwing his mouth into a pout. Ace couldn’t help the roll of his eyes, the exasperated breath that left him. He would apologize, but it might trigger another jerk.

No sooner were they both back to a companionable silence that Ace lifted from Gavin’s wrist, his belly full.

“Are you done?” the young man asked, unsure if he could take his arm away.

Ace went to bite again, and though his fangs responded—he didn’t seem to have the urge to bite again. “I suppose I am,” he said, letting Gavin go, “I guess your metabolism is good for one thing.”

“I’m glad it pleases you, me lord,” Gavin said, a poor imitation of a British peasant. He would’ve mocked some more, but a yawn beat him to it, occupying the spaces of his mouth he used to shit talk.

“I hope your previous partners haven’t suffered from your lack of stamina,” Ace said, straightening his clothes whilst running a few fingers in his hair.

“I’ve got plenty of stamina,” Gavin said, even as he curled into a ball on his side of the couch, “I just don’t want to waste it on you.”

Ace didn’t even bother arguing with Gavin, it was obvious the drudge was through with him, showing him his back as he was. The vampire could’ve walked away then, he had plenty of other things to keep him entertained, projects on hold overdue for a restart, emails to answer. Yet he stood there, arms crossed, whilst the other man made himself _very_ comfortable on his 18th Century French couch.

Maybe he wanted to think of something to say for when Gavin woke, shift the levy in his favour. But instead, all he managed to do was watch Gavin fall deeper into sleep, his shoulders falling from their strained line, the annoyed lines of his pout softening into the neutrality of slumber. Seeing him relax had a similar effect on the vampire, compelling him out of his frustrated stance.

He nearly left then, but Gavin’s occasional shivers drew his attention to his lack of covering. Ace rummaged through the closet looking for a blanket, unsure why he was bothering with the effort.

Gavin seemed to sink further into the cushions after the blanket was draped over his body, falling out of his tight ball. He reminded Ace of a cat, all sharp teeth, and claws until they were put to bed, lowering their guard enough to let you pet them.

Except Gavin _wasn’t_ a cat, and if Ace so much as entertained the idea of petting him, he’d find himself at the other end of an insult—or worse.

So, he left, putting one foot in front of the other before he found another excuse to stay.

* * *

“You let me fall asleep again,” Gavin grumbled, rubbing his bleary eyes at the vampire. Ace had returned a few minutes after sunset, Chloe’s cooking in one hand and a book in the other. The vampire paused, but said nothing, lowering the plate on the coffee table and taking a seat in one of his armchairs, flipping through his book.

“What time is it?” Gavin asked, too acquainted with the disorientation of passing time.

“A few minutes after seven,” Ace said, not lifting his eyes from the book.

“You let me sleep for ten hours?” Gavin accused, postponing the rest of his ire when the smell of food reached his nostrils. He moved towards it, digging in with ravenous hunger. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight, Ace,” he lamented through a forkful.

“I’m not responsible for your actions, Gavin,” the vampire said, turning to the next page, “if you find it that appalling to sleep here, you should set an alarm.”

Gavin chewed through his irritation, torn between replying and eating. For once, the hole in his stomach won over the one in his brain, saving him further embarrassment.

“Did Chloe say anything before she left?” Gavin asked, licking his fork clean.

“There’s more in the fridge,” Ace replied, not looking up.

“Not about food, dammit,” Gavin said, though the information was appreciated.

“Then no,” Ace said, lifting his eyes once, “if she has something to tell you, she’ll contact you personally.”

“Fine,” Gavin said, getting up from the couch, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to come every day,” Ace said before Gavin was through the threshold. His consideration was ignored, however, as the drudge shrugged and continued his trek to the kitchen.

Gavin sighed, getting a glass of water to undo the lump in his throat. He’d never expected to get so comfortable he’d sleep the entire day away. He’ll blame it on the couch and move on, lest he run circles around his own psyche trying to justify himself.

Dragging his feet, he left the kitchen, his bladder doing that unfortunate thing where it got full before he had a chance to get home. He started looking around, the only two doors he knew were to Chloe’s and Ace’s office—everything else was locked.

“What are you doing?”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Gavin jumped, spinning on his heel to meet the vampire, “I’m trying to find the bathroom,” he replied, pulling out of another dead end.

“Oh,” Ace said, feeling like a discourteous host for not introducing the human to one of the most important parts of his home. “It’s through here,” he said, leading them to the half bathroom at the end of the hall.

“Thank you,” Gavin said, a few pounds short of slamming the door in the vampire’s face. The man moved like a ghost, and this late at night, the last thing Gavin wanted to see was apparitions. He splashed some water on his face, calming the burn that seemed to settle on his cheeks every other moment.

Making quick work of nature’s call, he washed his hands afterward, lifting his sleeve enough to wash his wrists. He’d forgotten his bandages in the feeding room, but he’d be hard-pressed to return at this point. Sighing, he made do with his long sleeves, forcing himself to ignore the bruise, shoving his hands in his pockets just in case he forgot.

He poked his head out of the bathroom, looking both ways before making his getaway. It’d been awkward enough running into the vampire after he’d said his goodbyes, it’d be worse still if they ran into each other a third time. Gavin paused by the bottom of the stairs at the sound of the front door opening. He pressed himself behind a pillar, watching the dark oak swing forward.

Two men entered the home—uninvited, might he add—one was the spitting image of Ace, save for his brown eyes, and the other was an older, stockier, gentleman with silver hair and sky-blue eyes.

Connor—Gavin assumed—paused by the foyer, sniffing the air. His eyes seemed to lock on Gavin’s hiding form, a bloodhound with very sharp teeth.

“You can come out, I won’t bite,” the vampire said, beckoning Gavin forward.

Gavin, not one to back down from a challenge, even if it meant his sudden death, moved away from the pillar, his chest puffed as he tried to make himself seem bigger than he was.

Connor took another breath, his eyes going wide, “So, it was true,” the vampire gasped, looking at the older man and back at Gavin. He was on him in an instant, sniffing him, petting his hair, pushing against his neck—all to make sure he was real.

Gavin panicked, “A-Ace!” he managed to squeak before the vampire buried his nose in the crook of his neck, then recoiled.

“You smell just like him,” the brother said, something like pride in his eyes.

Fast, heavy footfalls approached from the right-wing of the house, Ace’s speedy entrance aborted when he saw Connor clutching his drudge. Gavin looked terrified—his heart thrashing in his chest.

“What are you doing here, Connor?” Ace accused, baring his teeth.

Connor ignored the challenge, dropping Gavin to beam at his little brother. “Ace,” he sighed, his chest tightening with delight, “I read your name on the registry, I thought it couldn’t be true, I just—Ace, I’m so proud of you!”

Before Connor had a chance to embrace his brother, Ace held up an arm, keeping him at a distance. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, his instinct to protect Gavin pounding hard in his skull, compelling him to walk a wide circle towards him.

“I’m”—Connor looked at his companion like he didn’t know what to say— “I thought you’d be happy to see me?” he said, cocking his head.

By now, Ace was in front of Gavin, shielding him from view. He had an arm outstretched to Connor, a silent warning to remain where he was, and another reaching for Gavin, grasping his wrist to make sure he was okay. When he’d heard him call his name, Ace was arrested with a feeling of pure terror, something in him ringing like a siren. He’d expected the worst, but Connor’s uninvited presence was a close second.

“What makes you think any of this would’ve been appropriate?” Ace growled.

“You don’t have to act so defensive, I’m not gonna harm your drudge,” Connor said, rolling his eyes. But Ace didn’t relax, if anything, his shoulders tensed harder. “I just wanted to see this with my own eyes, because I never thought it’d happen.”

“Well, you’ve seen it, leave,” Ace commanded, leaving no room for arguments.

“Ace,” Connor pleaded, “little brother—”

“Connor,” the silent companion began, putting a hand on the vampire’s shoulder, “just let it go.”

“No, Hank, he needs to let me be proud of him,” Connor protested, covering the human’s hand with his own, “if mom and dad saw—”

“Don’t you dare tell them,” Ace snarled, his eyes flashing red, “Connor, I swear if you mention a word I will never forgive you.”

Connor’s head dropped, finally conceding, “Tell Chloe I said hi,” he said, retreating from a lost cause. Gavin almost felt bad for him now that the fright had left his system. What had happened between them?

Ace waited until he heard the engine of their car rev and the wheels skid away before he allowed himself to relax. He brought Gavin into a tight hug, surprising his drudge with the sudden embrace.

“Are you okay?” Ace asked, caressing Gavin’s face, following his jaw down to his neck where he felt for his pulse, much like his brother had done.

“Yeah,” Gavin said, blooming under the attention, an unknown part of him keening and begging him to press into the soft touches, but a more sensible—audible—voice stopped him. “I’m fine now,” he admitted because Ace protecting him wasn’t something he’d ever envisioned.

“I’m sorry you had to meet him that way,” Ace grumbled, his teeth clenched, “he can be very overwhelming.”

“I know Chloe said he looked just like you, but he _looks_ just like you,” Gavin said, “it freaked me out.”

“Yes, our parents weren’t expecting it either,” Ace said, his hand still on Gavin’s neck. The prehistoric instinct to protect what was his began to fade, replaced by discomfiture at being so close. He cleared his throat, letting his limbs drop.

Gavin looked at the fallen hand, feeling cold at the loss of contact. “Connor said I smelled ‘just like you,’” he mentioned, crossing his arms, “seemed very happy about that.”

“It means our bond is strong,” Ace said, stepping away, “that’s how North knew,” he continued, inhaling once to verify that, yeah, Gavin’s blood held a part of him in it.

Always. Forever.

“So, I really am yours then,” Gavin said, keeping his voice neutral. He wasn’t yet comfortable admitting his new nature, much less considering himself a possession.

Ace looked at him, eyes serious when he said, “In a sense, but you’re not property Gavin, my venom flowing in your veins is more of a deterrent for other vampires than a claim of ownership. The stronger the bond, the stronger the deterrent.”

“Seems quite one-sided,” Gavin said, something akin to jealousy making its way through his psyche, “how do people know you have a drudge when I’m not there?”

“Don’t worry,” Ace snorted, his lips quirked in a grimace, “they know.”

The statement wasn’t meant to be comforting, but Gavin couldn’t help but _be_ comforted by it. Possession or no, it felt good to be on equal standing, to know they’ll always end up in a draw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but Ace sitting by the chessboard, ready to play again made my heart so warm and cozy. I hope it came across just the amount of TIME that's passed between them. That they were never supposed to see each other again, but alas.


	13. Magic Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. So I haven't really done a warning for a chapter since the re-write. But I'm putting one here in case anyone is triggered by chase sequences. That's all I'm saying. You'll have to read--or not read--the rest find out what I'm talking about. 
> 
> Also, as promised to many of you, here's an abridged biology lesson. More to come in the upcoming chapters, and of course, Chloe will be a wealth of knowledge until exposition kills me!

Gavin insisted on sitting in the back—if he’s gonna be dragged to class, he’d stick to his old habits, _thank you very much_. Chloe obliged, despite the odd quirk of her lips.

They were here too early—in Gavin’s opinion—the class housing only one other person who was so far removed he didn’t even register in Gavin’s mind. The instructor—a short brunette with a pixie’s haircut—greeted them with a smile, handing them each a cupcake, a pamphlet, and a pen.

Gavin scarfed his down before he’d taken his seat, playing with the pen’s top, clicking it whilst he waited.

“Gavin,” Chloe said, gentle as she placed her hand over the drudge’s nervous tic, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Gavin lied, putting down the pen.

“You and Ace have the same tell,” Chloe noted, a motherly grin playing on her lips, “care to share?”

“No,” Gavin grumbled, sinking deeper into his chair, “it’s stupid anyway.”

“It can’t possibly be stupid if it’s bothering you this much,” Chloe said, almost as a reprimand.

“I’m just afraid I’ll get recognized,” he admitted, a blush crawling up his neck. Despite his efforts to prove otherwise, he _sometimes_ cared about what people thought.

“The probability of that is quite low,” Chloe said, statistically speaking it was impossible.

“See, that’s why I said it was stupid,” Gavin pouted, crossing his arms.

“I’m sorry Gavin, I didn’t mean to minimize your worry,” she said, hanging her head, “what about being recognized bothers you?”

“Were you a therapist in a past life?” Gavin asked, raising a brow at her. Chloe shook her head, considering it for a second.

“I’ve worn many hats, but counsellor has not been one of them,” she admitted, “I’m simply asking as a friend.”

“Connor visited us last night,” Gavin said, taking her by surprise, “he knew immediately, I’m just wondering if it’s written on my face, if other drudges know it too.”

“That sneaky little,” Chloe restrained the rest of her frustration, keeping her worst comments to herself, “unless you tell them or show them, another drudge or human won’t know,” she reassured, motioning to the slow-filling class, “you’re not much different than you were before, everything is internal.”

Gavin was still unsure, his eyes flitting between his fellow peers. He wondered if any of them were sensitive like him—if they’d all been willing to consent. Regardless of what you might legally say, one could always lie.

The clock clicked to eight-thirty, signalling the beginning of class. Shutting the door, the instructor introduced herself as Kara, giving her age in human years—four hundred on the dot—and welcomed the rest of the class to do the same. Everyone looked around the room, shifting their eyes like clockwork to the next speaker. By the time they got to Gavin, he was halfway to the floor, remembering why he didn’t like classrooms in the first place.

Chloe didn’t have any qualms introducing herself, her age dwarfing Kara’s by at least two hundred years. The other new drudges looked excited to meet her, their faces in awe. Gavin had never bothered to ask, but the knowledge did give him some perspective. Is this what he had to look forward to, a life full of endless days, of evolution, of becoming one with his vampire?

There was that possessive again. He’d caught himself using it last night, Connor’s sudden appearance kicking him into a cowardly little headspace. But he was fine now—he shouldn’t use the term so freely.

“Welcome,” Kara said at the end, nodding once then returning to her podium, “as you all know, this class isn’t mandatory, but I’m extremely grateful you’ve chosen to come. Before we begin, I’d like to draw your attention to the group therapy sessions we hold the first of every month,” she said, pointing to the line on her colourful pamphlet, “I find being surrounded by your equals helps acclimate you to your own body and sharing similar experiences can make you feel a little less alone.”

Chloe nodded, her eyes shifting to Gavin’s out of habit. The drudge rolled his eyes, “You’re not gonna make me go to that too, are you?” he whispered.

“Only if you want to, Gavin,” Chloe whispered back, pinching his bicep, much like his mother did when she was teasing.

“This is a vampire-free zone, so feel free to voice any displeasures you might have about your partner, I promise it will fall on deaf ears,” Kara said, getting a few chuckles from the class, “however, if you have serious complaints, I’d like to direct your attention to our hotline, also confidential. They’ll help you with anything from feeding troubles to abuse and instruct you on the proper actions to take and when to do so.” Gavin looked around again, hoping none of them would find themselves in the middle of something unpleasant.

Now that the introduction was out of the way, Kara began her presentation, going into a brief history and biology of drudgery. It’s been traced back to their caveman ancestors, an evolutionary tool for survival.

“Being a drudge involves becoming a provider to your vampire, your body goes through numerable changes, some noticeable others more acute, taking time to enhance. Eventually, you learn the difference between your vampire’s hunger and anger, when they need space, when they’re full, when they’re feeding for pleasure, and other things. You learn to separate them from your own,” Kara said, advancing to the next slide, “in turn the vampire offers protection and shelter. In some cases, it might manifest as them buying you things, or fixing things, or stepping up in the middle of an argument.” She looked pointedly at a few people, lightbulbs clicking in their heads. “Don’t begrudge them too much, it’s hard-wired into them and until boundaries are set, they’ll continue to act on those primitive instincts.”

Gavin felt the flames of embarrassment fan his face, wanting nothing more but to bury it in a dark void. Conceding with his hoodie, he hid his hands deep in his pockets. Chloe’s body shook in his peripherals, her hand covering her smirk. Gavin wanted to pout, but he was in the process of biting his lips, stuck between emotions.

Kara moved on to the next topic—Gavin’s eyes widening at the title. “Trigger Words” it read, purposefully alarming to catch the reader’s attention.

“Now, some of this might delve into moral ambiguity, and I caution you to use these things lightly,” Kara warned, going to the next slide, “‘Trigger Words’, as they’ve been coined, are words or phrases proven to bring about an immediate reaction in a vampire. The most obvious and possibly the one that’s gotten the most people hurt is ‘bite me’.” Gavin squinted at the emboldened words, the realization that he’d triggered Ace just shy of a few times slapping him in the face.

“Of course, vampires aren’t senseless creatures with no self-control, but these words do hold weight, and their effects don’t diminish with repeated use,” Kara said, her tone serious, “I urge you to memorize them and excise them from your vocabulary until absolutely necessary.”

Some drudges were writing furiously into their pamphlets, others took a picture with their phones. Gavin didn’t care to do either, too focused on the fact that he could’ve lost a limb with his unruly mouth.

Kara moved on, her next slide showing someone telepathically controlling another person, a red stamp of disapproval sitting on top of it. “Despite what our romance novels might say,” she began, getting a few pre-emptive chuckles, “being a drudge only lowers your threshold for feeding compliance—everything else is yours.

“You cannot be compelled to do what you don’t want to do, despite it seeming that way,” Kara said, “hopefully you’ll never be pressured into disregarding your values but be wary of a vampire who forces you to consent during a feed,” she continued, lingering on each of their faces.

“Do we have any questions so far? We still have a lot to cover, but you’ve all been so quiet,” she said, trying to break the tension.

“You’re a great speaker,” Chloe said from her place beside Gavin, earning a few hums and nods of agreement.

Kara blushed, thanking her for her kindness. “If we have no questions now, I’ll continue,” she said, after clearing her throat. “Drudge anatomy is quite an interesting subject. We’re still human, but venom gives us vampiric immunity, perpetually linking us to our vampire until their death.” Kara flipped to the next slide, nothing but quotes from research studies corroborating her statement. “It’s physically impossible for us to get overweight with our accelerated metabolism, and I’m sure you’ve noticed an increase in food consumption.”

Gavin snorted, thinking she could say that again.

“We can’t get ill, and any illnesses we had prior are ‘cured’ by the venom,” Kara continued, “I say ‘cured’ because it’s more of a suppression of the illness or disease—if you were to remove the venom, the disease would return.”

Gavin looked at Chloe, thought of the dormant illness sitting in her lungs, wondered if she’d known when she’d accepted North’s offer.

“It’s not all positives though, we’re subject to mood swings,” Kara said, flipping to the next slide, “venom is a potent anxiolytic, but once it’s not actively circulating in our system it leaves us with a sense of ‘empty’ and ‘missing’ until it levels out once more.”

A few nodded, scratching at their wrists or their necks—an obvious tell.

“It’s dangerous to seek more venom, though, unless you’re one of the very rare hypersensitive drudges. A sudden dump of venom could depress your respiratory drive,” she said, pulling up statistics linking drudge deaths with venom overdoses, the same ones Gavin found in his first internet search. “It’s unlikely that it will happen, no vampire produces that much venom in one sitting to overload the senses. It’s most often seen by those actively searching for more venom, whether they’ve illegally extracted it from their vampire, or found someone else to bite them.”

Gavin had his hand up before he could even think, Kara’s smile bright as she motioned for him to proceed. He ignored the shift of attention, swallowing the lump in his throat before he asked, “Why did you exclude hypersensitive drudges?”

“Awesome question, Gavin,” Kara said, stepping outside of the podium, “most people seem to gloss over that population, since they’re a minority within minorities.” She picked up a black marker drawing a punnet square—HV and HH denoting the chromosomal pairs for Human/Vampire (or hybrid) and Human/Human.

“For those of you who don’t know, vampirism is codominant. When a human and a hybrid have a child, the probability that that child will be human is 50%,” she said, showing her work, “the probability that that child will be chromosomally XX or XY is also 50%, give or take if you include the rarer variations,” she continued. “Hypersensitivity has been linked to the Y-chromosome, so for a child to be hypersensitive, they’ll have to have at least one hybrid parent, and it always has to be the father ”— she drew out another punnet square denoting an HV/HV pair—“and they need to be born XY.” She finished, circling both necessary items into one neat little baby.

“As you can see, quite a rare and interesting study,” Kara said, only halfway answering Gavin’s question, “there’s no limit to how much venom they can house, and so an overdose is impossible, but their symptoms are more severe. Furthermore, their bite marks never heal, their metabolism is even faster, and because their body is always seeking more venom, it’ll be difficult to find that equilibrium.” Kara returned to her podium, flipping to the next slide, “Most experts agree that if you suspect your child has hypersensitivity they should never come in contact with venom.”

Gavin felt like he was gonna be sick, getting more than he bargained for from his curiosity. Chloe placed a steady hand between his shoulder blades—a lighthouse in this unfortunate storm.

He zoned out for the rest of class, his head heavy with accusations and circumstances that predated his birth. How, even now, was his father still responsible for all the miseries in his life?

When Kara dismissed the class, Gavin’s initial instinct was to bolt, but he’d damned himself by sitting in the back, having to wait for the others to exit first before he could find a clear path, and even then, Chloe was holding him hostage with an arm around his own.

She led them to the front where Kara was packing away her travel suitcase. Chloe waited until the small brunette turned her attention to them, her smile still as kind as it’d been in the beginning.

“That was an excellent presentation, Kara, I wanted to personally thank you,” Chloe said, bowing her head.

“You could’ve probably taught it better,” Kara replied, her face burning bright at the praise, “I’ve never had a drudge in this class older than a few months, I had to double-check you weren’t a vampire.”

“I was here for moral support,” Chloe said, patting Gavin’s shoulder.

Kara shifted her gaze to him, getting a better look. She noted the bandages around his neck, the same ones peeking beyond the hem of the sleeves on his wrist. Realization was swift, but her smile remained the same, gentler even.

“If you need further support, I’d highly recommend our group sessions,” Kara said, directing their gazes to the pamphlet, “I also teach it, and we have a group of regulars that’ll make you feel right at home.”

“I’ll consider it,” Gavin murmured since it seemed both women were waiting for his reply.

“That’s all I can ask,” the brunette said, waving goodbye when they left.

“See, that wasn’t so painful,” Chloe said, walking through the parking lot to her SUV.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad to know I was doomed from birth,” Gavin said, climbing into the front, “I’ve never even smoked weed and now my body is addicted to venom,” he continued once she made it to the driver’s side.

“I can only offer my apologies,” Chloe said, driving them back to Gavin’s apartment, “my vetting process wasn’t that specific.”

“I’m over it now,” Gavin said, looking away.

“There’s that tell again,” Chloe said, even though she’d been staring at the road, “I don’t think you’ll ever be over it, not unless you find something worthwhile in your relationship with my charge.”

“You mean like finally beating him in chess?” Gavin joked, “I’m not planning on making more out of this than I already have,” he continued, “I’m sure your _charge_ will find someone worth his while and use me only when he needs me—at least here’s hoping.” Gavin crossed his fingers, looking at the universe to grant him one simple wish.

Chloe raised an eyebrow, keeping her most pressing comments to herself. “Will you be seeing him today?” she asked instead.

“I said I would,” Gavin said, resigned, “so I guess I have to.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind if you wait until tomorrow,” Chloe said, certain of it.

“I’m sure he will,” Gavin countered, his smirk far too cocky like he knew something Chloe didn’t, “he’ll write it in his little journal and give me the cold shoulder whilst trying to pretend he’s unbothered.”

“Wow, it’s like you’ve read his mind,” Chloe teased, playful.

“What can I say?” Gavin said, following it up by saying nothing at all.

The blonde couldn’t quite wrestle the fond smile from her lips, wishing Gavin the best of luck when they reached his apartment. She’d try to make the best out of this situation, even if it meant remaining the liaison for two very stubborn mules.

* * *

“I almost thought you wouldn’t show,” Ace said in lieu of a greeting. It was nearing sunset, Gavin’s no-call-no-show explained by Chloe’s simple statement earlier in the day. ‘An outing,’ she’d called it, though he expected there was more to it than that.

“I don’t like breaking promises,” Gavin said, stepping inside the mansion. This close to dusk, Ace had taken the chance to light up the hallways with flickering candlelight. It made the house warm and mysterious, its darker halls holding secrets better left to explorers. Gavin shivered, his caveman instincts hard to beat.

“It wasn’t so much a promise as it was an afterthought,” Ace said, closing the door behind them.

Gavin whirled to meet his gaze, his face already falling into a sneer, “Did you not want me here?” he asked, not letting the vampire answer before he continued, “because I can leave.”

Ace’s lips thinned—his eyes unreadable. “I won’t take long,” he murmured, not bothering with the common room as he reached for Gavin’s arm, surprised he let him manipulate it enough to begin unwinding his bandages.

“What are you—” Gavin spurted, snatching back his hand once he had his wits about him, “this is not how we do things,” he continued, removing his leather jacket and hanging it on the coat stand, “I’m not some quickie you can shove out the door before mom gets home.” He was halfway down the hall before he rounded back, looking at Ace like he’d grown a second head.

“Are you coming or not?”

He supposed he had no other choice.

Gavin stomped his way into the room, sitting down on the sofa with a huff. He presented his arm before the vampire sat down, looking at virtually anything else but the man taking his seat beside him.

“Now you may eat,” Gavin grumbled, waiting for the full untying of his bandages, for the bite, hoping his body wouldn’t betray him a third time. It took him a second to realize Ace hadn’t moved from his position, his hands clasped over his lap instead of around his arm, his eyes on him instead of his wrist.

“What?” Gavin asked, feeling like a bug under display.

Ace scoffed, looking at the ceiling before he let his gaze roam around the room, landing on his drudge’s wrist once more. “I’m not hungry,” Ace said. For once, it was the truth.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not hungry,” Ace repeated, gentle as he pushed Gavin’s arm away, “I can feel your irritation clawing under my skin and it made whatever appetite I did have vanish into thin air.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Gavin exclaimed, disbelief making his face twist into itself, “like you’re joking, I drove an hour to get here!”

“I’m sorry, Gavin,” Ace said, rolling his shoulders, “you should have called.”

“Oh, fuck you, you pompous jerk!” Gavin spat, getting up. His body vibrated with unused energy, forcing him to pace around the room like a locked tiger.

“ _I’m_ the jerk?” Ace retorted, unable to keep from taking the bait, “I’m the jerk, Gavin.”

“Yes, that’s what I _phucking_ said,” Gavin muttered from his place by the window, his eyes meeting the light of the half-moon. “You and your stupid fucking venom,” he gritted out, his heart going into double time.

“Tell us how you really feel,” Ace said, rising from his seat—a shadow. He only got close enough to meet Gavin’s eyes through the window’s reflection, keeping his distance lest he be considered even more of a monster in the drudge’s mind.

“You don’t wanna know how I feel,” Gavin said through a dry chuckle, “I’ll break your tiny little heart.”

“I’m certain you won’t,” Ace challenged—all ears.

“You think you’re so damn clever, hiding behind walls of superiority,” Gavin said, his smirk just as sharp as his words, “you don’t know what you’re doing any more than I do, so stop pretending you do.”

The silence that followed was deafening, filling the space with its unwanted company. Ace had enough patience to supplement Gavin’s lack thereof, but even his well ran dry, and an anxious tic began in his fingers, turning into a full-body drive to stand just a bit closer to the drudge.

“This was supposed to be temporary,” Gavin lamented, the steam of his ire dissipating into the air, leaving him tired and cold, “I’d counted on that, prepped myself to withstand this nightmare of a situation.” He stared just beside the vampire, his eyes downcast, “I didn’t think I’d get used to it so quickly.”

“Your father was a hybrid, it’s only logical that—”

“You don’t know anything about my dad,” Gavin hissed, “I’m not some theory you can brute-force your way into solving,” he continued, hating how hot his tears felt against his cheek. “You didn’t want this, _I_ didn’t want this, but it happened anyway, so just _bite me_ and get it over with.”

It’d been an accident, really and truly, but Gavin hadn’t thought before he blurted out the words, covering his mouth as fear coiled its sticky tendrils around his heart. There was a low growl starting from Ace’s chest, forcing a flinch out Gavin. The vampire held a fist to his teeth and met Gavin’s stare with cold emotion

“Don’t…please don’t say it like that,” he implored, his face twitching, fangs spasming in his gums.

Gavin nodded—more of a frantic jerk of his head—wishing he’d been born without a tongue. He didn’t dare move from his spot by the window, feeling like a mouse waiting for the snake to strike.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Gavin,” Ace said, holding up his hands. It pained him to speak, but it pained him more to smell the bitter fear pouring out of Gavin’s scent. “Just, don’t move for a moment.” Ace was fighting every cell in his muscles that told him to _follow Gavin’s command._ Turning around seemed nearly impossible in his state—but he managed, thanking his self-restraint (as thin as it’d become).

“You may leave now, but don’t ru—” Before Gavin could hear the rest of Ace’s warning, he bolted out of the room, the sound of his retreating footsteps triggering that final piece in Ace he’d been trying to keep at bay. “Dammit, Gavin!” he hissed, feeling disconnected from himself as he ran after his drudge, _mine, mine, mine_ , beating its insistence into his skull until he swore he was panting it out loud.

It didn’t take long to catch up to the human, to tackle him to the ground before he opened the door. Gavin yelped and kicked back, trying to wriggle out of Ace’s grip. But it was pointless, the vampire had him pinned on his stomach, his icy fingers closing tighter around his wrists.

“Sometimes, it does one good to listen,” Ace said, snapping against Gavin’s ear, his words of wisdom far more menacing in the low candlelight. Gavin struggled in his grip, his heart audible and erratic, his breaths just as fast. Ace had to say something to calm him down before he misunderstood this already unfortunate situation.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, this is not what this is, but you _ran_ ,” Ace began, sure his grip would leave bruises in the morning, “you don’t run from a vampire Gavin, you can’t do that unless you want to be chased.”

Gavin froze, his neck twisting so he could meet Ace’s eyes, disbelief and fear written in all the lines of his face. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me _that_?!” he yelled, trying to pull away even harder now.

“I was about to before you rushed out of the room like a bat out of hell,” Ace said, the irony not escaping him, “ _stop_ _fighting_ , or I won’t be able to let you go,” the vampire warned, his vision tunnelling.

“Like hell, you won’t—”

“Gavin _please_ ,” Ace begged, his fangs straining in his mouth, distorting his speech, “please just listen to me for once.”

“Is this what this is, a power-struggle?” Gavin asked, managing to side-eye the vampire from his humiliating position.

“That’s exactly what this is,” Ace said, hanging his head, “it’s taking everything in me not to just bite you and shut you up.” Gavin’s heart flipped in its cage at the admission, distracting enough to get him to relax, even if just a fraction.

They sat like that for a moment, letting the air settle, their hearts calm. Given enough time, even Gavin submitted, ceasing the tenseness of his wrists, of his shoulders, sore from being bent out of shape. He pressed his forehead on the rug, exhaling like an exhausted balloon.

“You win, please let me go,” Gavin said, embarrassment presenting itself as two red spots on his cheeks.

Ace nodded, finding that his locked fingers required a lot of persuasion to _un_ lock, creaking as he lifted them one by one. His knee was still pressed into Gavin’s back, the pressure not enough to crush his lungs, but just enough to remind him he’d been caught. That came away too, slowly, almost like the vampire didn’t trust him to stay down. But Gavin did, even as he spat daggers at him with every blink.

“You may stand,” Ace said, shaking the last of his instincts before he composed himself. Gavin rose to his feet, keeping his eyes on the vampire. “I’m so—”

But Gavin didn’t let him finish, lashing out with his fist, undeterred when the vampire caught it, going for the low blow instead, his knee just shy of breaking speed as he propelled it into Ace’s groin, hissing when he missed it by a hair, landing on his abdomen instead. It forced Ace to let him go, to protect the rest of his body, giving the drudge enough time to put as much distance between them as his unsteady footsteps let him.

“Don’t _ever_ do anything like that to me again,” Gavin began, his stare deadly, “or I’ll pull your fangs out of your skull,” he threatened, feeling the urge to spit at the vampire’s feet, restraining himself on the basis that he’d have to get closer to Ace. “How’s that for a fucking promise?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still struggling with this one, out of all the re-written chapters, this latter half of the chapter is giving me the most trouble. It makes sense. Vampires are true predators, top of the food-chain, they have no known predators apart from the sun, and that's more of a biological predator than a physical one. To me, at least, it makes sense that if prey [for the lack of a better word] runs AWAY, they chase. That it'd be something written in their DNA that's triggered whenever their drudge, or feeding partner, or whatever you want to call it just RUNS AWAY. 
> 
> I don't know, tell me what you think. The next two chapters deal with the aftermath of this decision, so it'd be difficult to correct. Though, as you have probably noted, I'm no stranger to accepting constructive criticism. LOL.


	14. Bite-Sized Therapy

Gavin sighed into the blazing heat cascading over his skin, the knob as far to the right as the metal would allow. It was sensory overload, his skin was already hot on a _good_ day, but he couldn’t think—couldn’t bring himself to lower the temperature. Everything tingled with pent up energy, zipping through the most sensitive parts of his body. God, the _fear_ that’d gripped him at that moment, the absolute humiliation. How had he let himself be trapped so easily?

He looked at his wrists, Ace’s grip displayed as bright red markers, the heavy pressure of his knee lingering on his back, the weight of it driving panic further into his stomach. Gavin shivered, dipping his head beneath the stream to catch the worst of his anxiety.

_A power-struggle_.

He could only scoff, rubbing the area where the vampire could’ve bitten and coming away clean. He’d been close to, Gavin heard it in his voice when he’d snapped at him, how his teeth overcrowded his mouth, his fangs making it difficult to articulate with any grace. What would’ve happened if he’d kept struggling, would more of Ace’s instincts come through, would he be a victim of his own nature?

Goosebumps erupted down his arms, his back. He shook his head, not wanting to think about it, enough he had to drag himself back there tomorrow.

He finished his shower, drying his hair, and redressing his wounds. It’d become a habit, the purple bruises far too obvious to anyone who’d dare to look. Padding towards the fridge, he satisfied his hunger with a three-tier sandwich. He wasn’t as hungry as he could be, chalking it up to his veins being overfull. Just the reminder—that awful internal clock ticking its insistence—was enough to piss him off all over again. 

He clamped down on the first bite, inhaling the next few with an angry chew. Reaching his fingers, he cursed, standing up to make another. Somewhere between his third sandwich, sleep found him, surrounding him in a catatonic fog, rendering him immobile until the ring of his phone late the next day.

Gavin woke with a wet face, the now-stale sandwich crushed in his grip. He massaged his jaw, the ball of food an uncomfortable mush in his mouth. Doing the smart thing, he tossed it and the sandwich away, washing his face before he answered the phone.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Morning Gavin,” Chloe said, her voice never failed to calm him, “did I wake you?”

“Had to be woken up anyway,” Gavin said, looking at the time.

“Still, I hate to bother you,” she seemed to hesitate, her breath coming in uneven shakes, “did something happen yesterday?” she asked, voice tight and tense.

“Chloe…” Gavin began but couldn’t form the words.

“I only ask because I came to visit Ace and he locked himself in his room,” Chloe said, “says he’d like to be ‘left alone,’” she quoted, the words coming through pursed lips.

“What else did he say?” Gavin asked gritting his teeth.

“To leave the blood bags in the fridge,” Chloe continued, her tone unreadable, “I’m assuming _he_ assumed you’d requested a change.”

“That’s quite presumptuous of him,” Gavin said, chuckling without humour.

“I know he isn’t gonna tell me what happened,” Chloe began, intelligent to a fault, “I’m hoping I don’t have to pry it out of you either.”

The drudge chewed his lip, last night’s lunch hedging its bets on a re-entry. “I think I may have stopped paying attention in class because I don’t recall being ‘chased by a vampire’ a side effect of my condition.” There was a sarcastic lilt to his tone, a coping mechanism for the more insidious panic that clung to the walls of his veins, spiking what little was left of his adrenaline.

Chloe’s gasp was soft but audible, her hand coming up to muffle it. She looked at the estate from her car, a mixture of annoyance and sympathy making its way through her mind. “That should really be taught in all schools,” Chloe said as an afterthought, filling the dead air between their conversation, “no wonder he’s taken to hiding—I’m sure he’d chain himself to that bed if he could.”

There was something satisfying hearing about Ace’s guilt, it validated Gavin’s feelings, his own need for retribution. It didn’t erase the fear, it’d be up to time at this point.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Gavin,” Chloe said, feeling like she’s given more apologies to this human than anyone else combined.

“Have you ever been chased by your vampire?” Gavin asked, the odd twist in his heart making his pulse jump. It was a strange thing to ask, fundamentally inappropriate, an open secret. Yet he wanted to know, expose that secret, reassure himself he wasn’t the only drudge stupid enough to trigger their vampire and then _run_ _away from them._

“Not on accident,” Chloe said, her voice retaining a hint of curiosity and humour that came from an inside joke, “North may be older than Ace and me combined, but she’s still a victim of a select few rules, rules that I use to my advantage.”

Gavin was glad for the anonymity of the phone—he was sure his blush could melt steel if he let it. “You must know her very well,” he said after an unsuccessful clear of his throat.

“I’ve had plenty of time to learn,” Chloe reminded, leaving the obvious _you will too_ , unspoken. She gave him a few moments to collect his thoughts before she spoke again, returning to her friendly professionalism. “When would you like me there for your blood draw?”

“He thinks I’m that much of a coward?” Gavin snapped, bristling.

“I don’t think he thinks _you’re_ the coward, Gavin,” Chloe corrected, gentle as a feather, “I believe he thinks _he_ is.”

The drudge sighed, rubbing his temples. “How long have you had to speak for him, Chloe, be his voice of reason during his ‘less than stellar’ moments?” Gavin asked almost as if speaking to himself.

“Ever since he was old enough to get in trouble, which—to his merit—wasn’t often,” Chloe said, recollecting with an affectionate smile, “I feel this new venture has regressed him somewhat—a hard reset on what he knows and doesn’t.”

“Like learning how to ride a bike,” Gavin mumbled, absentmindedly scratching his neck. “I’m still angry at him,” the drudge said after some serious thought.

“I don’t blame you,” Chloe hummed, nodding once, “no one likes to be treated like a rabbit.”

Gavin agreed with his own nod, the welt above his wrist itching from unuse. “I’m just surprised he didn’t bite me,” he said, rubbing his bandaged skin against his knee, the friction relieving some of his discomforts.

“He _didn’t_?” Chloe repeated, surprise colouring her tone, “normally, there’s a little love tag, or I guess in your case just a _tag_. It’s enough of a warning to the one being chased not to do it again,” Chloe explained, raising a brow at the mansion, “the object is never to feed after a chase, but to capture. Primitive as it may be, it reassures the vampire they’ll have food come the morrow, and it should remind the drudge the vampire is strong and capable—it doesn’t often play out that way, though.”

Gavin scoffed, his throat growing itchy. “I know how it ended with me—how does it normally end with you?”

Now it was Chloe’s turn to blush, refraining from answering the question in its entirety when she said, “Excitingly.”

Gavin’s eyes widened, enough that he feared they might fall out of his skull. “I see,” he managed to squeak out, his throat now a narrow tube in danger of collapsing from embarrassment.

“It’s about boundaries, Gavin,” Chloe rushed to move on, “you and Ace are dancing around the topic and become shocked when you overstep them,” she continued, bestowing her wisdom.

“I don’t even know what my boundaries are any more,” Gavin grumbled, hugging himself.

“Then tell that to Ace, and if he does something you don’t like, let him know,” Chloe said, explaining consent in its most basic form, “he’ll keep his word if you let him.” Gavin didn’t say anything, feeling like he’d been reprimanded for yet another mistake. 

“Consistency is key, Gavin, if you do it the same way each time it’ll become muscle memory,” Chloe said, revving her engine and pulling out of the driveway, “talk to him, because he won’t talk to you first.”

“So, you’re not gonna come and draw my blood?” Gavin asked, sardonic.

“Only if you want me to,” Chloe sighed, unable to keep that motherly frustration from bleeding through.

“I’ll think about it,” Gavin said, hanging up after their goodbye. It was as vague an answer as he was willing to give, his body in conflict with his words.

He kept thinking about it for a week, Chloe’s eyes searching each time she stuck his arm. There was a mutual understanding Gavin would do what he wanted just as Ace did, and Gavin appreciated her restraint in pushing either of them towards a conclusion—no matter how annoying.

There was a dream that kept running through his head, over and over until even in the ambiguity of wakefulness, he remembered it. He was a small rabbit, his fur a dark brown, his mouth buried deep in the ground as he munched on his food. The soft _click_ of a twig breaking alerted his attention, his ears twitching towards the sound.

Yet he kept eating, hunger stronger than fear.

It wasn’t until the wolf was upon him—his mouth snapping against him, saliva coating his fangs—that Gavin looked up into the icy blues of this creature, the rim around his irides bright red, his black and white fur standing at a point.

“ _Don’t move,_ ” it growled, it’s heavy paw on Gavin’s tiny body enough of a deterrent.

Gavin did not move, afraid for his life, for his flesh. He waited, his heart hammering away like a drum, every little beat accounted for. And he continued to wait, and wait, and wait.

He woke up waiting, and returned to the same dream, and waited. Enough that he wondered if the wolf enjoyed the chase more than he did the actual act of eating.

* * *

Gavin looked around his apartment for something to do, boredom becoming his friend in these last few days. He put away the copy of his drudge certification—the real one was with Chloe—stashing it in the same place he kept his diploma: second drawer of his nightstand.

Kara’s colourful pamphlet was next on the counter, her red marker circling the drudge support group sessions she hosted the first of each month. Out of habit, he checked the time, August 31st blinked back at him, almost like a sign.

He looked further into the website listed below, family-friendly stock photos adorning the ‘support group.’ Memories of half-assed middle-school therapists put a bad taste in his mouth, nearly forcing him to disregard the whole idea. Yet Gavin kept reading, thinking it might be nice to share something in common with a group of strangers.

It’s not like he had to commit to anything.

And it was with that mentality he found himself—bright and early the next morning—in group therapy with other drudges. He didn’t recognize anyone, and for the most part, they all looked normal. If a few wore their marks with a bit more pride—it wasn’t his place to judge. The one on his neck was covered with brand new bandages, hidden from sight and prying eyes, and the length of his sleeves covered the one on his wrist.

Kara recognized him immediately, her kind smile shining bright in the auditorium’s fluorescent lights. She acknowledged his presence with a polite nod, finishing her conversation with one of the other visitors before coming to Gavin, taking his hand in hers.

“I’m so glad you made it, Gavin,” she said, giving him a tight squeeze, “it’s always encouraging to see new drudges take advantage of these programs, even if it’s only once.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d only come because it was either this or sleep, and he was all out of sleep. A distant clock chimed the hour—9 o’clock—and those who’d been by the snack bar made it to their seats, stuffing their faces with the last of their breakfast. He, for one, was glad for the interruption, waving goodbye before taking a random seat.

“Good morning everyone,” Kara began meeting their eyes, “I see some new faces here and on behalf of everyone, I’d love to extend a warm welcome,” she waited for the others to do the same, a half-hearted unanimous ‘welcome’ ringing throughout the auditorium. “My name is Kara and I’ll be moderating our session today—but just know that we’re quite informal and what we discuss in here, stays in here.”

“Just like Vegas,” a drudge said across the circle, earning him a few chuckles.

“Yes, Leo, just like Vegas,” Kara agreed, her smile never wavering, “I’d like to start with a brief introduction, whether you’ve been here since the start or this is your first time. What I’d like to know is your name, age, and how long you’ve been a drudge,” she instructed, “I’ll start. You know my name already, I’m 29 years old, and I’ve been a drudge for four-hundred years.”

“Welcome,” the crowd said in unison, this time with a bit more enthusiasm.

They went around in a clockwise fashion and Gavin got to put faces to names, surprised to find that most were cresting the century mark. It made him feel inadequate like he should have more experience before coming to one of these things. Finally, it was his turn to speak. He cleared his throat a few times, finding it itchy and tight.

“I’m Gavin, twenty-two years old, and I’ve been a drudge for three months now,” he said, unsure when he should start counting.

“Youngblood!” Leo exclaimed, clapping as the others gave their welcome.

“Leo,” Kara chastised, turning to Gavin with an apology etched in her blue eyes, “I’m sorry dear.” The man in question shook his head, dismissing her. It was good someone had a sense of humour about this—his had flown out the window the moment he’d signed those papers.

Kara took a deep breath, opening her folder of common topics. She chose one at random, speaking with a clear voice when she asked, “What is the one thing you like and dislike about being a drudge?”

A few people were eager to raise their hands, but Kara pulled out a plush box labelled ‘The Talking Cube.’ She tossed it to a random person explaining how they’d do the same when they were done speaking.

Gavin got to learn that most people shared a similar like—longevity. They described how they’d gone from taking a horse-drawn carriage to a car, how the gradual passing of time gave them perspective—whether they used that to reflect and become a better person or stay the same was yet to be decided. What they disliked, however, varied. Some missed their parents, their siblings, and their friends. Others were less attached, Leo notably saying that it was better to leave some people in the past. Some lamented their lack of true autonomy, a feeling with which Gavin agreed, but again, a few rebutted that they liked the structure—that it gave them a universal constant in an ever-shifting world.

The one that surprised him came from the woman sitting next to him, Tina—Gavin remembered—who said she’d found herself developing unrequited feelings for her vampire. She explained how she noticed it in parts, never seeing herself as someone who would fall into that ridiculous trope, she didn’t realize what they were until her vampire got engaged. A few nodded alongside her, having experienced their own bout of unrequitedness.

Gavin jumped when the box was tossed to him. He thought about his answer, unsure if he wanted to reveal his deepest insecurities to a group of strangers. Sighing, he toyed with the cube, looking at it as he said, “I guess a nice thing is we can’t get sick anymore,” a few agreed, “I just got the short end of the stick by being hypersensitive,” he concluded, abridging the details. He’d been looking at Tina as he said it, tossing the cube to another person.

“I don’t know,” Leo said when the cube was thrown back to him on accident, “I kind of like being _extra_ sensitive, makes everything else a lot more fun,” he admitted, his wink far too suggestive for polite company.

“And that concludes that question,” Kara said, snuffing out any more thinly veiled vulgarities from the class-clown. “Take a quick ten-minute break, when we return, we’ll be learning a few phrases you can use to calm a misbehaving vampire.”

Gavin walked over to the breakfast bar, picking up a few muffins, taking a bite out of one before the sudden warmth of another human invaded his personal bubble. He looked to his right, Leo grinning at him from ear to ear, filling his own plate with goodies.

“I wanted to personally introduce myself to the newest member of the pack,” the drudge began, “Leo Manfred, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he continued, holding out a hand.

Gavin took it but was assaulted with immediate regret when Leo grabbed his hand, twisting so he could see his wrist. “You are hypersensitive,” he hummed, looking over the purple puncture wound before Gavin yanked it out of his grip.

“What the hell are you doing?” Gavin asked, walking away from the eccentric drudge.

“Hey, come on, I’m just trying to verify,” Leo said, keeping up the pace, “can’t help my professional curiosity. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a youngblood, especially now with all these laws.”

“What do you want, anyway?” Gavin asked, returning to his seat, dismayed when Leo sat beside him.

“Was just wondering if you were really sensitive or just playing it up for sympathy points,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Why would I lie about that?” Gavin grumbled, taking an angry bite out of his muffin.

“Eh, you never know, venom sensitivity is really rare, some people just crave that extra attention,” Leo said, looking at his nails, “get that sensitivity pity.”

“Like you?” Gavin retorted—his eyebrow raised.

“I’m offended, but not at all surprised,” Leo shook his head, holding his supposedly broken heart, “you just don’t find our kind that often.”

“Our kind?”

“You know,” Leo leaned closer, whispering in Gavin’s ear, “venom whores, venom junkies, get itchy when we don’t get a steady supply, get really _itchy_ if our vampire is stingy about it,” he continued, rolling up his sleeves. Both of his arms were covered in bite marks, sharp tattoos along his skin. The freshest one was right along his forearm, red like a blood-stained kiss.

“I’m not—”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Leo interrupted, “it’s the ‘hypersensitivity’,” he quoted rolling his eyes, “but don’t lie to me and tell me you don’t enjoy it when they’re a bit rougher about it.”

Gavin didn’t feel like eating anymore, an uncomfortable knot keeping him from entertaining the idea of food. He hated how his pulse pounded in his neck, how it seemed to never calm, no matter how many deep breaths he took. Just the mention of venom had him in an anticipatory sweat, further validating Leo’s point of them being ‘junkies.’

Leo left his forearms on full display, the smirk on his face self-satisfactory.

“Did you say your last name was Manfred?” Gavin asked, shaking his head as he remembered the doctor that’d aided them on more than one occasion.

“Yeah, why, do you recognize me?” Leo asked, flashing an annoying grin.

“No, I recognize your last name, but I couldn’t see how you and Markus Manfred were related,” Gavin said, rubbing his temples. Leo seemed to sober up, sitting a bit straighter, his back stiffer, like Gavin had pushed a button.

“Well, I’ll be damned, small world,” Leo said, huffing a breath, “that would be my late, late father’s adopted pet,” Leo revealed, “now I’m curious as to how you know him.”

“As you said,” Gavin mumbled, “small world.”

“Leo, get out of my seat,” Tina said, looking ready to clock the clown if he didn’t move fast enough.

“Sorry, your highness,” Leo said, standing in one swift motion, “we’ll talk later Gavin.”

“Hopefully not,” the drudge murmured once the nuisance was out of earshot.

Tina chuckled, understanding completely. “He’s like that with everyone, especially if you’re new. But don’t let him intimidate you, he’s harmless,” Tina counselled, holding out her hand, “Tina Chen.”

Gavin hesitated, unsure if he was gonna’ get his wrist checked out again. “Gavin Reed,” he said, minding his manners and shaking the offered pleasantry. Her grip was firm but yielding when he pulled away.

“Welcome to our little get together, I hope you’re learning something even if it’s useless in the long run,” she said, sighing into her orange juice. Gavin would’ve asked her to elaborate, but Kara resumed their session, handing out another informational pamphlet.

‘Trigger words’ seemed to be a hot topic—if only he’d paid more attention the first time. Gavin wanted to bury his red face in an ice-cube, but he had to make do with his drink instead, taking small sips until it was done.

Kara concluded their session midday, asking the group if there was anything else they’d like to discuss. A question burned at the tip of Gavin’s tongue, but he kept it shut, having a limit on how much he could share with strangers. He did hesitate when they were dismissed, waiting for Kara to start packing before he approached her. She looked up—her smile just as warm as it’d been in the beginning.

“Hello Gavin, I hope you enjoyed your first group session,” she said, her smile faltering when she looked at the space Leo had occupied, “I do want to personally apologize for Leo’s behaviour. He tends to get a bit excited with new people, I’ll try to curtail his enthusiasm if you visit us again next month.”

“It’s fine, nothing I haven’t seen before,” Gavin reassured, not wanting her to feel bad. “I did like it, actually.”

Kara beamed, her little bob shaking when she nodded, “Yes, I’m glad, it’s always good to have support, especially considering how new you are to this, I’m sure you’re trying to figure everything out as fast as you can.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Gavin said, rubbing his neck, “is it true these never go away?” he asked, baring himself to show her his scars.

Kara cocked her head, empathy a strong emotion pulling on her lips, on her brows, the creases of her eyes. “In a normal drudge, a bite mark goes from red, to pink, to transparent—nearly indiscernible to other humans,” she began, always willing to teach, “unfortunately, in hypersensitive drudges, the mechanism that allows the venom to filter out of the body is the same one that controls the bruising. It’ll heal, and scar, but it’ll always contrast the skin.”

“So, don’t let them get creative with where they park their fangs,” Gavin said, rolling his eyes, “got it.”

Kara chuckled, the action shaking her bob, “Not unless you want to end up like Leo,” she cautioned, her gaze flickering to his chair, “though I can’t imagine that’s entirely his vampire’s doing.”

“What do you mean?” Gavin asked, his curiosity piqued.

“May I?” Kara asked, holding out her hand for Gavin’s, he gave it to her, surprised when she bent his fingers and placed his index on her pulse point. “Though a vampire can bite anywhere there’s a blood vessel, they prefer the arteries,” she explained, pointing on herself the most common, “radial, brachial, carotid. Vampires are very precise and have almost no margin of error when repeat biting, it’s why it scars so beautifully.”

“I don’t know about beautiful, Kara,” Gavin said, pulling his sleeve over his welt.

“Subjective, I understand,” she corrected herself, smiling, “but the ones Leo has seemed erratic, rushed, more like tags than actual feeding marks.”

“You think he was running away to get bitten on purpose?” Gavin asked, remembering the fear, the pounding of his heart in sync with the one’s chasing him, the pressure at his back, on his wrists, where—if he squinted—he could still see the yellowing fingerprints.

Kara sighed, nodding once. “If his vampire refuses to feed properly, or doesn’t have time to feed, or just doesn’t want to overload Leo to give him that high, then, yes, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Is venom that addicting?”

“It can be,” Kara said, “especially when you’re bonded, it changes your physiological makeup, half of you is now someone else’s, you carry them with you whilst your blood fuels their body—it can be quite intimate.”

“Why does everybody always talk about it like they’re sleeping with their vampire?” Gavin grumbled, his cheeks growing hot.

“Most are,” Kara revealed, nodding to herself, “if a vampire hasn’t already chosen a partner, they’ll most likely end up with their drudge out of convenience.”

“How romantic,” Gavin groused, his tone flat.

“It can be,” Kara chuckled, he was happy _she_ found it funny, “though you’re not obligated to seduce your vampire, Gavin, don’t let the movies fool you.”

“Don’t worry,” Gavin rushed, shaking his head, “I wasn’t even planning on it.”

“Good. Love should come naturally,” she agreed, “don’t confuse possessiveness for jealousy, nor proximity for closeness,” she counselled, “you’ve got a lot to learn, but I’ve got faith in you.”

“Thank you, Kara,” Gavin said, walking away with a little wave.

The last thing he needed was to descend further into the do’s and don’t’s of being a drudge, especially where emotions were concerned, and how fucking stupid he’d been at handling it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite line: “Why does everybody always talk about it like they’re sleeping with their vampire?”
> 
> Wink WINK, NUDGE NUDGE
> 
> Anywho, LEO IS IN THIS. I imagine him being a Gavin who actually likes the taste of venom--or i guess, the feeling lol. We'll be seeing him again, and I did make a promise to someone long ago that there'd be more of him and Allen, I have not forgotten! I live for rare-pairs


	15. Sometimes bad weather is the best plot device

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say this is possibly my favourite chapter, I am nowhere near exaggerating. Re-reading it, I just couldn't keep that stupid grin off my face!

It was nearing sunset on his ‘weekend’, which meant nothing when his internal clock woke with its own persistent tick. Sighing, Gavin walked into his closet to find his comfiest clothes, needing the warmth and comfort of his oversized sweater. Hoping it’d be enough, he grabbed his phone and keys, rushing to the charging port housing his car.

He drove in silence, watching the sun’s descent turn the sky pink—the promise of rain just over the horizon. As if on cue, the tell-tale pitter-patter of water droplets hit the roof of his car, the roll of his eyes synchronized with the thunder.

Ducking from the worst of the ensuing downpour, he ran to the front door, thankful for the overhang shielding him. He knocked, a few steady raps echoing in the large house. There hadn’t been any signs of candlelight, nor the steady footfalls of someone approaching the door. Trying again, this time with the heavy knocker, he waited until irritation clawed at his nerves, forcing him to run back to his car.

He shivered in the cool air, cranking the heat to the max whilst he defrosted. There were a few seconds where he pondered on just leaving, on pretending he’d ignored the itch that connected the only two bite marks on his body. Punching his steering wheel, he stepped out again, following the diminishing feeling in his wrist like a game of hot-and-cold.

It took him to the back of the house, the land stretching farther than his eye could see. He bypassed an amorphous pool, the edge of a solarium, which had plants clinging to every inch of windowed sunlight. Rounding further still until he stopped by a warehouse, its massive garage doors open, revealing mechanical parts littering the floor in various states of repair.

Gavin was distracted enough that his ire took the back seat to his curiosity, inching forward until he was just beside the doors. With a deep breath, he walked into the warehouse, Ace’s mind unravelling in bits and pieces. Things that seemed like junk to him had a purpose under the vampire’s hands, their place in the pile of unfinished projects clear even to an outsider.

Gavin touched one, careful not to disturb its delicate reconstruction. Following the lights and noises like a lost ship at sea, he ended up a few paces away from the vampire. Ace’s back was to him, his sensitive ears protected by earmuffs, his eyes covered with a heavy-duty welding visor, blocking the sparks as he cut into the metal frame of an old car with a circular saw.

Ace seemed to sense a disturbance in the air, the muscles—at least the ones Gavin could see through his thin shirt—tensed. He was hesitant to turn around, maybe that’s why he only did a half shuffle, his eyes downcast, not even bothering with removing his protective covering. “Go home,” he said, resuming his work.

But when had Gavin ever done anything he’d been told?

“Not until we talk!” he shouted over the buzz of the saw, waiting for Ace to turn around and ask him ‘what,’ or even just notice his insistence on staying where he stood.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” the vampire said, not needing to pause his work a second time to answer, “go home,” he repeated, more of his attitude flowing through.

Gavin grumbled, stepping closer, “I’m not going home until we’ve established some boundaries,” he said, resolute.

Ace stopped the saw, lifting his visor so he could deliver the full force of his disbelief to the stubborn drudge. “You’re currently overstepping mine,” Ace said, motioning to the floor and the clear delineation between his workspace and the outside world.

Gavin took a step back, trying to respect his own demands. “There, will you listen to me now?”

“I will not,” Ace said, resuming his work for a third time, expecting the interruption as he did his next breath. “No boundaries have to be crossed if we keep a sizeable distance between us,” he continued, sounding as sure as the sunrise, “the lessons of hindsight are usually learned in the aftermath. I’ve learned mine—I suggest you do the same.”

“Is that a threat?” Gavin asked through gritted teeth.

“Not any less than yours was,” Ace replied, rolling his shoulders before he put down the saw. He turned, removing his visor and earmuffs, the area not previously protected covered with a light spattering of soot and sweat. The vampire had been at this a while, at least the whole day judging by the grime on his shirt.

It still took Gavin by surprise, Ace’s ability to switch from pretentious asshole to mechanic in a change of clothes. He felt dynamic then, less abstract, and unreachable, even as he kept himself out of reach.

Ace stepped closer, a sneer curling his lips into a poor imitation of a smile. Though Gavin stood his ground, his limbs twitched, as obvious a tell as running would have been. “Even though you put on this brave face, you’re still scared of me,” the vampire began, his expression hardening, “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how your heart rate spikes each time I move closer, or how your scent turns bitter with hatred at the mere sight of me.” Ace took the liberty of pushing his grease-coated fingers against the bandaged pulse at Gavin’s neck, watching the drudge’s sympathetic nervous system kick further into high gear.

“One hundred and thirty-seven,” Ace said, removing his fingers, “I’d suggest you go home for your health if nothing else.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Gavin ground out, crossing his arms.

Ace lowered his head, so he was eye level with the drudge, his blue irides surrounded by a thin circle of red. “You look away when you lie,” Ace whispered, meeting Gavin’s annoyed stare with an _I told you so_. “Go home, please,” the vampire said, trying out civility for manner’s sake.

“I’m not a little kid you can just boss around,” Gavin said, looking exactly like a petulant child, “if I want to stay, I will.”

“You’re on private property, Gavin, I can have you removed,” Ace said, more of a statement than a warning, “please don’t let it come to that.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Gavin taunted, “I am your _drudge_ , by law I’m allowed to be here.”

“You are my drudge,” Ace agreed, before immediately following up with, “ _not_ my husband, you have not physical claims on my land. Don’t confuse this for the marriage it isn’t.”

“I’m not confusing any—hey! What are you doing?” Gavin exclaimed, trying to squirm out of Ace’s grip on his bicep. He was being pulled to the front of the warehouse—forcibly might he add.

“You need to learn to listen, Gavin,” Ace said, looking dead ahead to the exit. Before he could so much as walk towards Gavin’s car, they were both shocked by a strong ray of lightning illuminating the night sky, the clouds bursting with a vengeful pour. Ace waited for a moment, counting the seconds between the lightning and thunder. Two seconds, which meant the storm was here and judging by the howling wind, it wasn’t moving for a few more hours.

The lights flickered but held as another bout of lightning struck the ground.

Gavin pulled out of Ace’s loosened grip, checking out the blackout maps, praying to an imaginary god and cursing their name in the same breath when his apartment was squat in the middle of a power outage.

They both looked at the downpour, then at each other, Ace’s eyes glinting with reserved irritation. “I’ll drive you home,” the vampire said, unhappy about his circumstance but finding it more agreeable than the alternative.

“In this rain, are you fucking crazy?” Gavin asked, gesturing to the sky, “you’re gonna kill us both.”

“You’ll have to suspend your disbelief for a moment Gavin, but I’ve driven in worse,” Ace said, stepping into the downpour, “stay here.” He was soaked immediately, his white shirt turning invisible, clinging to his body like a second skin.

Gavin’s eyes took the liberty to misbehave and flicker to the more prominent parts of Ace’s back, far too defined for someone whose diet was liquid-based. Working with his hands might have contributed to the bulge in his arms, but the rest of him was like cut stone, unfairly perfect.

It’s almost a shame he hid away behind his three-piece suits.

Gavin shook his head, his blush burning bright despite himself. “What are you doing?!” he called, testing the waters, and recoiling the moment the cold shock of rain hit his skin. “You’re gonna get sick you idiot!” Gavin said from a force of habit more than actual concern.

Ace ignored him, walking further into the rain.

Gavin ran after him, the rain hitting hard enough to shatter his bones with ice, September’s pre-Fall rain a warning for November’s snowstorms.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me, Gavin?” Ace asked, walking faster, “I tell you to go home, and you stay put, I tell you to stay put, and you start to follow.”

“And why don’t you listen to me?” Gavin retorted, his sweater turning into dead weight.

“Because there’s nothing to listen to,” Ace growled, stopping on a dime. Gavin stumbled forward, catching himself before he fell on his face. “You are better off at home, pretending I don’t exist. It can’t possibly be that difficult!” the vampire yelled—his face as red as his eyes.

“Do you not feel it?” Gavin asked in disbelief, he undid his bandages, the purple welts stinging in the freezing air, “this pull, this constant, _tick-tick-tick_ in your brain like you’re forgetting to do something? Is it that easy for you to ignore me?”

“I’m trying, Gavin, I’m _trying_ , but you make it impossibly hard when you insist on showing up,” Ace said, hanging his head.

“I don’t want you to ignore me,” Gavin said, the tears in his eyes hidden by the rain, “I don’t know what I want, but I don’t want that.”

“Well, then you have nothing to worry about,” Ace said, his tone as cold as the rain pelting them overhead. “You’ve managed to do the impossible, Gavin, congratulations.”

“You’re blaming me again,” Gavin spat, balling his hands into fists. He was vibrating with fury, every ounce of blood in him burning a path through his veins.

“I didn’t mean—”

“But you’re doing it anyway, your intent and your words don’t match, Ace,” Gavin said, pointing a finger.

“You seem quite comfortable calling the kettle black, Gavin,” Ace said, looking at the lightning, “what about your intent, and your _words_? You ask for boundaries, whilst trampling over mine, you selfishly disregard my nature whilst reprimanding me for my reaction, knowing good and goddamn well what I am.”

At this point, they’d burst the other’s personal bubble, almost chest to chest, polar opposite magnets resisting the attraction despite the pull.

“Then what do you want?” Gavin asked, feeling helpless. The frigidity was numbing his fingers, the rest of his limbs following.

“I want you to stay away.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Then I can’t be held responsible for your fear.”

“I’m not asking you to be,” Gavin said, holding his chin high.

“You’re an idiot,” Ace said, shaking his head. He walked past Gavin to his front door, hesitating when he grabbed the handle, that pull Gavin referred to stretching thin the farther away they were. It was an uncomfortable band around his brain, a reminder that he was no longer alone in this uncertain world. “Are you going to freeze to death, Gavin?”

“I don’t know, am I?” Gavin spat back, defiant as he crossed his soaked arms over his chest, “seems exactly like what an idiot would do.”

“You insisted on staying—stay,” Ace said, opening his front door wide, “or would you rather I tell you to go home so you’ll do the opposite?”

“Shut up,” Gavin grumbled, brushing past the vampire when he entered the warm house, feeling the drastic difference on his skin, goosebumps erupting hard and fast on every attainable surface. “If I get sick, I’m suing.”

“I’m sure Chloe would be more than happy to help,” Ace said, something like smothered jealousy in his tone.

They stood there like a pair of wet, stubborn dogs—neither budging despite their truce—forced from their position by the roaring thunder, its intensity shaking the walls.

“Come,” Ace said, gesturing to the grand staircase, “I should have something that fits you well enough for the night.”

Gavin had no more fight left in him, with his limbs cold and achy, he now had the countenance of a dishrag, limping his ascent with begrudging acceptance. He followed Ace into his room, standing in an awkward puddle whilst the vampire disappeared into his walk-in closet, returning with a few old shirts he seemed to favour using for his work and a few pairs of silk pyjamas.

“Pick what you want from the bunch, leave the rest on the bed,” Ace said, “the guest bedroom is down the opposite side of the hall and will be the first door to the right,” he continued, not staying behind to witness Gavin’s reaction, instead, he dipped into his en suite, in dire need of a hot shower.

Gavin was in a similar unfortunate predisposition, padding his wet boots to the directed bedroom, grateful the grand oak locked with a definite click. It wasn’t until he went to undress that he realized he’d taken all of Ace’s nightclothes, but he’d be damned if he’d return to rectify his mistake.

He peeled the wet wool from his body, shivering harder when the air hit his bare skin. Rushing to the bathroom, he cursed the further he undressed, groaning when the first splash of hot water hit his icy head, cascading like a waterfall down the rest of his body. Steam rose as cold and hot mixed, going into his nostrils, and coating his insides. Finally warm, he had a chance to relax into the monotonous sound, forcing his limbs to grab the untouched soap and lather a good bit between his hands.

It smelled faintly of lavender, soft against his skin like cream, leaving no residue like the soap he had at home, the one he’d find flaking off his skin a day later. He scoffed, reminded Ace’s money could afford him luxuries like fancy soap in a guest bathroom.

Trying not to waste any more time in the shower, he finished washing, drying off with the fluffiest towel he’d ever held between his fingers. If the situation weren’t as it was, he’d be grateful for the amenities.

Instead, these ‘creature comforts’ reminded him of his father, of his ridiculous wealth and his inaccessibility to all of it. Not that he’d needed it, he’d made it abundantly clear that he could live without him and his money.

Gavin shook his head, knowing this wasn’t exactly that, and comparing the two was unfair to the vampire—as much as he’d like to blame him for everything, he couldn’t with this.

He distracted himself with picking out his pyjamas, running his hands through the black silk pants and a cotton tee shirt. They looked brand new but there was no indication of their usage or their age, nor did it matter—Gavin would only be spending the remainder of the night, or the remainder of the storm if he could help it.

He didn’t need Ace telling him he didn’t want him for the third time.

As he slid on the pants and cotton tee he ran into a few problems. One, everything was too big, their height difference no more emphasized than it was at this moment. Two, everything—the silk pants specifically—shifted _too_ much. The feather-light touches against him were like whispers against his skin, nearly improper given whom these belonged to.

He rummaged through the rest of the clothes, searching for either a different pair of pants or some underwear. When neither of those two things came to pass, he went back to the bathroom, looking at his own soaked clothes with trepidation. He’d have to dry them first, and that required a machine or time, neither of which he knew how to find.

Making sure not to wet himself and undo the towel’s good work, he heaved his clothes into his arms and padded downstairs, nature’s howling wind singing between the roof’s shingles.

As Gavin traversed the bottom floor, he thought it’d be best if Ace got a map of this place, seeing as every room was either a dead end or _not_ the laundry room.

“What are you doing?” the vampire asked from some recessed corner in the hallway, he’d followed the noise from the kitchen, his nose a better indicator than his common sense.

“Jesus!” Gavin jumped, dropping his clothes in his fright, “you _really_ need to stop doing that,” he said, bending low to pick up his fallen items. “If you must know, I’m looking for a dryer,” he said, assuming it was best to admit defeat and ask the owner.

Ace quirked an eyebrow, gesturing with a hand to the door a few paces away, Gavin’s penultimate destination if he’d kept going as he had been.

“Thank you,” the drudge grumbled, making it to the room without further difficulty. It was as easy a process as chucking his wet garments into the industrial dryer and putting it on max heat for the least amount of time. He heaved himself up on the unoccupied washing machine, feeling the warmth flow to him like a current.

Leaning his head back, he nearly fell asleep, the dryer’s rhythmic whooshing lulling him into a light slumber until the sharp knock on the door frame interrupted whatever peace he’d found in the spaces in between wakefulness and sleep.

“Whadaya’ want?” Gavin murmured, meeting Ace’s eyes, his expression unreadable. There was a sharp itch in his uncovered pulse points, clueing him to his own question. “I can feel that you know,” he grumbled, resisting the urge to scratch, “you’re not as coy as you think you are.”

Ace raised his eyes heavenward, the closest to an eye roll he’d get in the company of others, moving away from the door, his desire to say goodnight effectively snuffed by Gavin’s presumptions.

“Hey, come back,” Gavin snapped, hopping off the washing machine, “why is it every time I start to talk about feeds you walk away?”

“Drop it, Gavin,” the vampire said, his legs never stopping.

“So, you’re allowed to run away?” Gavin said, chasing after Ace, trying to use brute force to spin him around, “stop walking!”

The vampire did as he was told, with much chagrin for his own lack of will. He didn’t turn around, not needing to when his drudge took it upon himself to circle around him, short enough that their eyes met despite Ace’s best efforts.

“Are you hungry?” Gavin asked, trying not to let the flicker of irritation crossing Ace’s eyes dissuade him, “and don’t fucking lie to me, just say yes or no.”

“No.”

“Liar!”

“Why does it bother you so much?” Ace asked, his amusement laced with annoyance, “Chloe’s method of blood extraction is quite effective, I’ve got plenty to keep me for the next week, thank you.”

“It’s not—I’m not some snack pack you can store away for the winter,” Gavin retorted, pausing for his own benefit, “I mean, I guess I am, but I still exist—”

“Yes, you do,” Ace interrupted, raising his hand before he could help himself and ruffling it through Gavin’s hair, “you’re a good boy.” It was, to date, the most awkward thing he’s said to the man, and now he’s dug himself into this hole, with no chance of climbing back out. The only dignified thing to do was walk away before the stun bomb of his positive affirmation wore off.

There was a foreign warmth settling itself in Gavin’s lower abdomen, spreading to his cold chest, and the rest of his limbs. It concentrated on his cheeks, where he rubbed them, dissipating the ridiculous blush.

He didn’t move until the dryer’s startling buzz compelled him to return to the laundry room, his clothes hot and fluffy. Going back to his room was less of an ordeal now that he knew his way. He dropped his clothes on the bed, retrieving the only reason he’d left the room in the first place.

It helped, but only just.

* * *

Gavin woke up hot and sweaty, the duvet doubling the fire burning under his skin. He peeled it off his body with a groan, willing his heart to calm down. Maybe he would have to sue.

He huffed a laugh—certain yesterday’s impromptu rain shower wasn’t the sole reason for the bounding pulse at his neck. Padding to the bathroom took some effort, his limbs being pulled in the opposite direction by a tether. Even to himself, he looked annoyed in the mirror, his face cherry red, pout on full display.

Using the complimentary toothbrush and toothpaste, he washed out his mouth, splashing some cool water on the worst parts of his fever. He shivered when his fingers brushed against the mark on his jugular, the purple bruise ever-prominent, darker now that it’d scarred over.

Pushing into it had him clutching the counter, his eyes falling closed. It was as sensitive as an open wound, sending warning signs to stop, to let it be. Gavin’s heart was in his throat, making it hard to breathe, and the breaths he did manage to suck in got trapped in his lungs, adding to his anxiety.

He had too much blood, it clogged his vasculature, made everything heavier. Chloe would be there already, each blood draw relieving the symptoms for a day until it started over the next.

Feeling like a water balloon hanging over a needle, he redressed, yesterday’s clothes smelling faintly of saltwater. It helped ground him, remind him that the world existed outside of his overflowing mind.

Gavin paused by the bottom of the stairs, his nose picking up the smell of fresh-baked bread and sauteed vegetables. He followed the scent to the kitchen, his eyes half-lidded, mouth-watering.

The blonde—because of course it was Chloe—stood in the centre, her hands rolling out another batch of dough. “Good morning Gavin,” she said, her tone standing on the edge despite her polite smile, “did you sleep well?”

“How—”

“I went to your house, but you weren’t there, so I tried your phone, and you wouldn’t answer,” she interrupted, her mouth twisting downwards, “you’re lucky I thought to look here before I called the police.”

“Oh,” Gavin said, rubbing the back of his neck, “my phone must’ve died.”

“I’m not your mom, Gavin,” Chloe said, letting her shoulders relax, “but a little bit of a warning for next time would be nice, so I’m not thinking the worst.”

“Sorry, Chloe, I got caught in the storm,” Gavin said, sitting on one of the island’s bar stools, putting on his best apologetic stare. It worked on his own mom—he didn’t see why it shouldn’t on Chloe.

“I figured,” she said, trying to fight a smile and losing the battle when she asked, “so, did you talk?”

Gavin scoffed, shaking his head, “It’s like trying to push a wall out of the way,” he grumbled, looking over his shoulder just in case they had an eavesdropper in their midst, “he doesn’t want me here, says I should just ignore he exists.”

Chloe’s face fell into a hard line, her eyes looking in the direction of Ace’s bedroom. She cursed in what he presumed to be French, slapping the dough down with more force than necessary. “He’s got the stubbornness of a cat, I swear,” she said to herself, putting the formed dough balls on a pan to rise.

“I normally like cats,” Gavin commented, accepting the breakfast she pushed his way, “they tend to get less stubborn with food,” he continued after a bite.

As ironic timing would have it, Ace walked into the kitchen, freezing when his caretaker and his drudge turned to look at him, the blood bag’s makeshift straw halfway in his mouth, its contents making their slow way into his stomach.

“See,” Gavin said as if proving a point, returning to his own breakfast. He stabbed the roasted cherry tomatoes, cross with the vampire. I mean, he was right _fucking_ there, if he’d wanted to eat all he had to do was ask. At this point, he wouldn’t even mind if he just took it, help lower some of the tension pounding against his arteries.

“Chloe, do you have the little machine? I’m sure the power’s still out at my place,” Gavin asked, doing his best to block out the vampire slurping his life essence four feet away from him.

The eldest of the three looked between them, exasperation forcing her arms to cross over her chest, disbelief twisting her features into a confused conglomerate of lines and bends. “You two realize how redundant this is, right?” she asked.

“Just do it, Chloe,” Gavin sighed, his shoulders slumping, “or he’ll start crying about how much of a monster he is.” At least Ace had the decency to stay quiet, despite the offence curdling in his blood.

Chloe rubbed her temples, thinking this was easier when they were all strangers to each other. “You two need to talk,” she insisted, seeing the need like a notification in her peripherals.

“We’ve talked,” they said in unison.

Chloe closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before deciding executive action was the only way to break the stalemate. “Meet me in the feeding room,” she said, putting her bread buns in the oven, “if these burn before we’re through, you’ll both have hell to pay,” she continued, starting her timer for forty minutes.

Gavin was quick to his feet, knowing a threat when he heard one. Ace wasn’t as convinced, standing his ground despite Chloe’s stare. He’d tossed his finished blood bag into the red bin beside the trash, making no further efforts to move. 

Unbeknownst to him, she was more than through with his childlike stubbornness. She rounded the corner of the counter, pulling him down to her level by his ear. It was so surprising it startled a chuckle out of Gavin, which may have been a mistake, because her blue eyes locked on him, using her other hand to catch his ear.

It didn’t hurt, per se, she only applied enough pressure to incentivize them forward, but it was enough to remind them both of their youth, and like little children being reprimanded, they remained silent until they were both sat on a couch, Chloe’s hands to her hips, the kitchen timer ticking in the back of their heads.

“I would like to say my piece before we proceed,” Chloe began, taking a deep breath, “you are both being difficult, and I understand why. No one wants their free will taken away,” she said, empathy sneaking into her tone, “yet neither of you has done much to try and work together. He pushes, you pull, you pull, he pushes, over and over until neither of you has budged.” Chloe took another deep breath, massing her forehead. “I’m not asking you to get along, I’m not even asking that you two like each other, I just want you two to understand that this is lifelong, and a bit of forced civility goes a long way to make things work.”

They both nodded, hanging their heads.

“Establish your boundaries and be consistent,” she counselled, “please.”

“I don’t want to bite him,” Ace rushed, and before she could protest, he continued, “that is my boundary.”

“Ace,” Chloe looked ready to burst a blood vessel, a headache starting in the centre of her brain, “that is a very unpleasant thing to ask,” she said, feeling for her fellow drudge.

“Glad to know I’m that unappealing,” Gavin said, leaning back into the couch, hoping his nonchalance overshadowed the sting of rejection. “Didn’t see you complaining when you were sucking on my blood bag like a juice box.”

“ _This_ is why I don’t want to bite him,” Ace said, giving no further proof for his argument.

“Oh, fuck you,” Gavin snapped, “I wouldn’t want to bite you either, I bet you’re bitter like a grapefruit.”

“Both of you stop,” Chloe said, a few decibels away from shouting, “if this is how you two talk then it’s no wonder you’ve gotten nowhere,” she continued, flabbergasted. “ _Why_ don’t you want to bite him, Ace?”

The vampire remained tight-lipped—apparently, his previous answer wasn’t satisfactory enough.

“Come on, answer big boy,” Gavin taunted, his smirk full of venom. He leaned forward, invading the vampire’s space without ever touching him. “Why don’t you want to _bite me_?”

“Gavin,” Chloe warned, before Ace could, watching her son fight with his self-restraint. He had enough discipline—and blood in his belly—to overcome his instinct, but no one could miss the red rim around his irides, the slight bulging in his mouth signalling his fangs had heard Gavin’s command loud and clear.

“You have nothing to worry about, Chloe, I’m so disgusting that even after tackling me to the ground, he couldn’t muster the desire to sink his _little_ teeth into my _poor_ , _unprotected_ , _little neck_ ,” Gavin mocked, punctuating each word by lowering the collar of his sweater until he’d bared the entirety of his discoloured jugular.

Ace closed his eyes, feeling the veins around them rise to the surface. Before anyone else could say or do more humiliating things, he stood, walking away despite Chloe’s reminder that they weren’t finished. “Your bread rolls are about to burn,” he murmured, closing the feeding room door behind him.

It did nothing to stop the cloying scent of Gavin’s adrenaline-filled blood digging its claws and ripping out pieces of his throat with each inhale. There were many factors that’d kept him from _sinking his little teeth_ into that _little neck_ , but it’d been Chloe’s claimed scent that’d been enough of a deterrent to let him walk away.

“Triggering him isn’t going to help your case, Gavin,” Chloe said after a moment of looking at the closed door, “though I understand why you’re playing dirty, he’s tough one crack.”

“I don’t mean to rile him up,” Gavin said, feeling like some of that might be stretching the truth, “but I can’t seem to stop once I get started, it’s like I have a little devil egging me on.”

“That’ll be your drudge brain,” Chloe said, her half-smile ironic, “it doesn’t like getting rejected, especially after it’s worked so hard to make all that blood.” She sat beside him, taking his hand in hers and tracing his engorged veins, “Sometimes your vampire isn’t hungry, and so you’re stuck feeling hot and sweaty and irritated, like it's their fault you make too much. Which, it is—venom doesn’t tell the body how much to make, it just tells it to make more.” Letting him go, she traced her faded bite marks, the most recent one hidden on her upper thigh. “I can only imagine how you feel.”

“Hot,” Gavin agreed, pressing his hand to his forehead, “and sweaty, and irritated.”

Chloe chuckled, though it was a pained little thing. “I’ll go get the machine.”

It left Gavin alone with too much space and time to think. He could’ve acted with a bit more _civility_ as Chloe said, but that shit went out the window the moment Ace decided to be a brat. Maybe distance was better, seeing as they brought out the worst in each other whenever near.

The knock at the door startled him, enough his heart skipped a beat. He whirled around to meet the intruder of his thoughts.

“Chloe’s run out of needles,” Ace said, his face expressionless, “she asked if you’d like to go with her and simply do this at her place.”

Gavin rose from the couch and stretched, giving an obnoxious yawn. “What a shame, if only we had four very accessible needles hiding somewhere in there,” Gavin said, motioning to the vampire’s mouth, “at this rate, I’m more Chloe’s drudge than yours.”

Ace blocked the door, the veins around his eyes pulsing with his quickening heartbeat. There was a low growl starting somewhere in his chest, threatening to split his sternum in two.

“Move,” Gavin said, crossing his arms. The vampire’s insistence on being a pain in his ass was starting to grate on his already fried nerves.

Ace did move, but it was further into the room, locking them in. He braced himself against the door, impulse and common sense battling out in the silence that followed.

Gavin learned from his previous mistake, approaching the vampire instead of running away, being very slow and deliberate with his actions. “Move,” he repeated, going for the door handle obscured by Ace’s body. It put him into his personal bubble, one he broke often in his ire, and now out of bullheaded necessity.

“You’re my drudge,” Ace struggled to say, his frame vibrating like an earthquake. He’d dug his fingernails into his palm, the pain keeping him grounded, rooted to the spot, lest he does something as ridiculous as run his hand down Gavin’s soft hair. “You’re…you’re mine.” It was barely a huff, but it’d been loud enough for the drudge to hear.

Body autonomy aside, the declaration wracked through Gavin’s insides like a truck, grinding to dust whatever immediate protests made their way across his blood-brain-barrier to his mouth. “Oh yeah?” he asked, swallowing through a thick lump, “then why don’t you act like it?”

Ace looked away, feeling like _he’d_ been trapped. He switched their positions, regaining the advantage if only for a moment. The involuntary dip of his head made it hard to focus on anything else but his drudge’s pulse, how—even to him—seemed loud and erratic.

It reminded him of its owner, funnily enough. 

Gavin’s breath caught in his throat, Ace’s proximity affecting more than just his heart. It’d been the same in the courthouse bathroom when they’d been pressed into each other far too tightly to call it friendly, just the same when they’d been in Ace’s bedroom that first time.

To ignore the inevitable attraction of their bodies would be to blind themselves to the magnetism, ignore the click when they finally joined.

“You should go with Chloe,” Ace said through strained vocal cords. His mouth had been close enough to Gavin’s skin that his breath ghosted across his neck, making it down his back—the barest hint of a touch.

“Am I Chloe’s drudge, or yours?” Gavin asked, barely managing a whisper. He’d faint if his heart beat any faster.

“You’re mine,” Ace repeated, without hesitation.

“I’m your drudge,” Gavin corrected, rolling his eyes—he wasn’t anyone’s, he wasn’t even sure he legally owned himself, but now wasn’t the time for specifics. “I’m going to give you a final chance to decide what you want,” he continued, keeping perfectly still, “if you don’t want me, push me through this door and lock it behind me—I promise I’ll never bother you again.”

It was a hard promise to keep, but doable with enough distance.

“If you do want me, even if just a little bit, then I’m not gonna say the words, but you know what to do,” Gavin continued, feeling vulnerable, his skin raw like it’d been burned.

It was the longest pause in either of their lives, almost as if a higher power had left them in limbo. Gavin felt Ace shift beside him, his heart tanking to his feet when his hand reached for the handle, testing it as if he’d forgotten he’d locked it.

Perhaps it was because of that distraction that the bite took him by surprise, punching the breath from his lungs.

Ace bit hard when he was in the middle of a moral dilemma, his venom cutting through the pain with the efficiency of a scalpel. Gavin had to grab Ace’s suit jacket to keep from melting into the ground, his knees wobbly and useless. With each anxious twist of his fists, he brought the vampire closer, far too close, too, too close.

They panted against each other, chests meeting in the middle, it wasn’t until the venom had cycled through Gavin’s system that he began to relax, to slump against the door and let himself be supported. Ace caught him before he started slipping, his hands firm under his arm and around his waist.

The knock at the door came as such a shock that it frightened the vampire into dislodging, but not quite separating from Gavin, whose reaction was attenuated by the venom’s anxiolytic side effect.

“Ace?” Chloe called from the other side of the door, urging him to close the wound at his drudge’s neck, unable to wipe away the blood that spilled around his lips and down his chin. “Gavin?” she asked, a bit more urgency in her voice. She tried the door, the handle shaking but not budging.

No bother, after last time, she always remembered to carry a key.

“Here,” Gavin said once he saw her, loopy smile wide on his face.

“I found the needle…” Chloe trailed off, holding the inconspicuous 16-gauge between her thumb and forefinger. It was useless now, Ace’s red face and bloody mouth evidence she wouldn’t need it—at least for another day. She shook her head, fond frustration making an hourly appearance in her smile. Time has once again proven to be the great equalizer. “Make sure he eats after he wakes up,” Chloe said, closing the door on Ace’s spooked expression.

On cue, Gavin slumped against Ace’s shoulder, his snores soft but audible. The vampire sighed, licking the drying blood off his lips. He helped Gavin to the couch, clicking his tongue when he noticed the red spot on Gavin’s collar, the wool doing a tremendous imitation of a sponge.

He’ll just have to get him another one.

“Was that so hard, you idiot?” Gavin asked, startling the vampire who’d been in the process of draping a light blanket over his body.

“Go back to sleep, Gavin,” Ace said, his throat itchy.

“You can’t tell me what to…do…” Maybe not, but his body could, winning out whatever battle of stubborn wills played out in Gavin’s mind.

This was it then, their new normal. Ace had been given the option to run, and yet he stayed, maybe he’d been afraid Gavin would catch up to him if he did, tackle him with his insistence, his own power-struggle.

It’d be a sight to see at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite line: It’s not—I’m not some snack pack you can store away for the winter
> 
> Best line I've ever written ever which was so good to me I had to recycle it: The lessons of hindsight are usually learned in the aftermath


	16. Bows are meant to bend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Hell, 14K words! Jesus, to date, that is the longest chapter I've ever written. 
> 
> So! remember when I said the last chapter was possibly my favourite...well, let me introduce you to my FAVOURITE chapter (so far). 
> 
> I'm sure it goes without saying that all mistakes up to this point are mine, BUT, because of its length, there might be an overabundance of them, so I apologize in advance. Thank you for reading anyway, and also, thank you for all the kind words so far on the re-write, I know it's not the most usual thing to do, especially so close to the end. But I thank each and every one of you who stuck by it. It makes me all warm inside.  
> Also, speaking of overabundance, there's a lot of instances of the word 'smell', so much so it starts to sound weird, so sorry about that, I tried hard to lower the number of times I used it, but it wouldn't make sense otherwise

Gavin yawned into his soup, dipping his bread until it saturated the surface. He shoved it in his mouth, sparks of flavour bursting on his tongue. His eyes closed, the venom high lingering at the edges of his appetite.

He’d overslept again—though it’d probably be more apropos to say he’d _slept_ again.

“Kinda’ sucks you can’t eat human food,” Gavin said when sound and colour returned to his senses, “you’re really missing out.”

Ace was scrubbing the last of his dishes, half-paying attention to the man. “Can’t really miss something you’ve never had,” he replied noncommittally.

“Is that why you didn’t mind pushing me away?” Gavin asked, his tongue looser when his belly was full.

Ace’s brow quirked, admitting—at least to himself—that yes, there was some truth to Gavin’s question. “You should become a detective with all the crumb trails you manage to find,” he said instead, packing away the dried dishes.

“I always thought I’d look good in a uniform,” Gavin said, daydreaming.

“Detectives don’t wear uniforms,” Ace informed, bursting the drudge’s bubble.

“You must be fun at parties,” Gavin grouched, crossing his arms over his chest, it brought attention to the red splotches on the off-white wool, his pout turning into a scowl. “That’s not coming out, is it?”

“I’ll get you a new one,” the vampire said, his form of an apology.

“It’s not—” Gavin took a deep breath, quelling his emotion before it got the better of him. They’d only just began reconciling the pieces of their fragile relationship, ruining it now would undo whatever truce they’d cobbled together. “My mom made this one for me, I’d hate to throw it away.”

Ace thought back to Carolina, her intimidating stare and commanding presence enough to bypass her short stature. His hand hovered over his fangs, just in case. “I wouldn’t use bleach, but you could try little hydrogen peroxide, at least on an area no one would notice.”

Gavin hummed, still unhappy about his less-than-ideal options. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, looking at the vampire, waiting for his protest.

“Tomorrow it is,” Ace agreed, not giving Gavin the satisfaction of being correct.

* * *

Returning home was awkward, all the lights were on like he’d been home, yet it was empty with not a pin out of place. The power outage had reset his router, leading to the annoying re-typing of his credentials on all his devices. At least his fridge held its frigidity enough to preserve his delicate produce, though he didn’t mess around with the eggs, hating to waste the few that he’d had.

The rest of the day he went about collecting parts of himself, the ones he hadn’t realized he’d discarded, like his sense of humour, or his capacity to take a joke. He was on edge for quite a while, surprised the knots in his shoulders hadn’t turned to stone. The mark on his wrist hurt less, but it still itched—a reminder.

He looked at the sweater in his hands, fingered the red splotches of his blood, contrasting wildly with the light colour. It’d been an accident, for sure—everything had been—but erasing it wouldn’t minimize its impact, wouldn’t remove the part that’d made itself one with the fibres, soaked so deep into the wool it might as well be a new colour.

It wouldn’t make him forget—it’d live with him. A scar.

* * *

“Checkmate,” Ace said, out of habit more than any other obligation. Gavin looked at him, not quite as annoyed as he might’ve once been. He let him reset the board, noting he was getting quicker at that too.

“What am I doing wrong?” Gavin asked, starting first, insisting it was only fair due to his massive disadvantage.

Ace, unsurprisingly, had let him impose the caveat, winning regardless. “You’re not doing anything wrong, Gavin, you’re learning,” the vampire replied, missing the opportunity to end the game quicker than he would’ve were they playing for speed. It drew out their games, allowed him the opportunity to exercise old strategies whilst he watched Gavin discover new ones. Through enough games, they’d restored some friendliness between them, the innocent rivalry enough to syphon their irritation with each other through the pieces on the board instead of words.

“No thanks to you, at least Chloe explained what she was doing,” Gavin grumbled, moving his rook and realizing too late he’d put himself in check, “dammit.”

“I can’t play against you and teach you at the same time,” Ace said, ignoring the check, to take a random pawn, “it’s a conflict of interest.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Both, if we think about it long enough,” Ace said, trying to give Gavin opportunities to take a few pieces if only to lessen the blow of his ultimate win. “Checkmate.”

“You don’t have to take it easy on me anymore,” Gavin sighed, resetting the board, “it’s kind of insulting to let someone win.”

“I take it humility has made their acquaintance?” Ace teased, a little smile tugging the corners of his lips.

“Loud and clear, _professor_ ,” Gavin mocked, rolling his eyes, “one more game, and then you can eat.”

“You said that two games ago,” Ace said, though it wasn’t as much of a protest despite how it sounded.

“I’m hungry too,” Gavin murmured, moving his favourite pawn, “you don’t see me complaining.”

“True,” Ace conceded before saying, “but you’ve already eaten.”

“Sass me again and I’ll delay it further,” Gavin threatened, though the steam required for it to be effective was nonexistent. Regardless, Ace kept quiet until he was done, ending the match in a draw if only to somewhat placate the sore loser.

“I hate how you can decide how it ends,” Gavin said, standing from the chair after they shook hands.

“If you visualize the ending, you can decide where to start,” Ace said, letting Gavin go to the couch first.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve chanted ‘I’m gonna win this one’ more time than I can count,” the drudge said, exposing his wrist. He’d forgone the bandages lately, finding them more constricting than helpful.

“And I’m sure one day you will,” Ace said, taking the arm into his hands. Yesterday’s bitemark was fresh against the skin, red-rimmed around the purple bruise. Ace swallowed back his need to lick it, knowing it’d do no good on the toughened skin. “If I could fix this I would,” Ace said in a moment of empathy, his eyes drifting to Gavin’s then lowering to the matching mark on his neck. It’d been a week since he’d used that site, the messy reminder doing nothing but brightening his cheeks, and forcing his gaze back to his drudge’s wrist.

Gavin shrugged, leaning into the couch cushions to get comfortable before he couldn’t.

Feedings didn’t take as long as they once did, no more than fifteen minutes go by before Ace is already full, Gavin’s thick blood settling warmly in the depths of his stomach, rejuvenating his own body with a fresh supply of nutrients. It never failed to surprise him how much better he felt afterwards, how the energy spanned for many hours, helping his creative spirit fly into his work in the garage or even his reading.

Nothing has ever compared, and he was having to agree—reluctantly—that having a drudge _was_ a good thing, at least as good as he could make it given the circumstances of their coupling.

“There are still leftovers, right?” Gavin asked, settling into a ball, no longer fighting the need to sleep when it engulfed him.

“Yes, but if you want more food, there’s plenty in the fridge,” Ace said, forcing himself to stand and move towards the door. Too many times he’d caught himself lingering by the drudge, watching him drift into sleep just for him to raise a brow and ask if he needed anything else.

“Yeah, alright, see you in a few hours.”

* * *

Ace washed the last of his dirty dishes, indeed having to cook another meal for the famished drudge. One of these days—and with his permission—he’d like to see how fast his metabolism worked and if anything could slow it down.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, same time?” Gavin asked, though it was more of a reminder than a question.

“Actually, and before you say anything it’s not what you think,” Ace said, reading Gavin’s mind, “I’m guest-lecturing a few cities over, there’s a conference—boring math stuff,” the vampire continued, breaking it down to its most basic parts. “I’ll be gone for a week.”

“A _week_?” Gavin parroted, the desire to refuse the vampire sudden and all-consuming, “what do you mean a week?”

“A workweek, five days,” Ace corrected, trying to do damage control. This is why he didn’t tell anyone anything, why he spent most of his life alone. Accounting for a plus one was never on his agenda.

“At this point, you might as well take me with you,” Gavin said, half-joking. It was enough to give the vampire pause, to bring his hand to his chin in that iconic ‘contemplative pose.’ “What?” Gavin asked, feeling like he was being studied.

“It’s a better idea than carrying a cooler full of my ‘snack-packs,’” Ace replied, his lips quirking upwards, “would you like to come?”

“And entertain your boring math stuff?” Gavin said, hoping his disbelief made up for the blush creeping up his neck, “no thanks.”

“You wouldn’t have to go to the conference,” Ace said, leaning on the counter, “we’d be in the centre of the city, plenty of things to do there.”

“With what money?” Gavin said, shaking his head, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I gave everything you gave me to my mom, save for the few thousand to pay off my student loans and continue paying rent and food.”

The vampire looked amused, not breaking eye contact whilst he fished for the wallet in his breast pocket, pulling out a card from memory. He handed it to Gavin, waiting for him to take it. “That should handle the money and food.”

“Perks of being fucking loaded,” Gavin said, clinking the card against the counter when he realized it was metallic, “is this a black card?”

“Yes,” the vampire said, agreeing to both the literal and financial definition of the statement, “there shouldn’t be a limit on that one, but if there is, I doubt anything you buy will reach it.” It’d be arrogant if he weren’t so confident and matter of fact.

Gavin looked at the card, feeling uneasy holding something that wasn’t his. “I can’t take this,” he said, pushing it back in Ace’s direction, before temptation got the better of him, “besides, I didn’t even say I’d go.”

“Well,” Ace said, returning his card to his wallet, “I have to leave soon if I want to beat the sunrise,” the vampire continued. If he was disappointed, it didn’t show.

Gavin thought ahead to the weekend, to the monotony that arose when he had nothing to do. He still considered _this_ his job because attempting to do anything else would conflict with _this_. Looking at his fingers, he picked beneath the nails, nervous when he asked, “Where would we even be staying?”

Ace met his eyes again, searching his face, “A hotel,” he answered, “we could always book more rooms.”

“I don’t even have a change of clothes,” Gavin said, lamenting his lack of wardrobe, like _that_ was the only thing holding him back.

“Gavin, you don’t have to go,” Ace reminded, removing whatever imaginary obligation Gavin thought he had to him, “though I won’t stop you if you decide to.”

“Do you want me there?” Gavin asked after some deliberation. What did Chloe say? They had to establish boundaries so they wouldn’t cross them on accident.

“I’m not as opposed to it now,” Ace said, his pale cheeks darkening.

Gavin raised his brows, anxious smile turning smug. “Well,” he began, leaning his chin on his hand, “I guess the quickest way to a man’s heart _is_ through his stomach,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes, “I’ll go, but we’ll have to make a pit-stop first.”

Ace narrowed his eyes, yet he didn’t fight the suggestion, nor the detour to Gavin’s house that was on the opposite end of their destination delaying them by another hour, or even when Gavin invited himself into his car, his travel suitcase tucked neatly in the backseat. They settled for the long drive—the car’s playlist set to random.

It was after they passed the same highway streetlights for five straight minutes that Gavin cracked the silence, his teachers’ complaints ringing true. “Do you get invited to these things often?”

“Yes,” Ace said, sparing Gavin a sideways glance. He was used to doing these drives alone, preferring them over an airplane for the relative silence as inconvenient as it might seem on the surface.

“You’re just gonna leave it at that?” Gavin returned—his tone dry.

“That’s all you asked.”

“Har-har,” Gavin mocked, crossing his arms, “why did you retire if you still want to teach?”

“Teaching at a university doesn’t afford you the freedom of spreading the wealth of information at your own leisure, there’s rules and regulations, deadlines and appointments,” Ace answered, a little looser with the details, “I’ve done it long enough to know that wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Seems the desire for freedom is a common theme in all aspects of your life,” Gavin said, prying through Ace’s words like it’d been second nature.

“And I’m sure you appreciate being tied down,” Ace said, on the verge of snapping. He didn’t like being deconstructed like one of his cars—he was more complex than that.

“Now who’s making it sound like the marriage it isn’t?” Gavin teased, unable—or unwilling—to stop his curiosity. He still didn’t know much about the vampire despite having him buried in his neck on more than a few occasions.

“God help whatever poor soul decides to marry you, Gavin, if this is how you act,” Ace said, trying for melodramatic with his eyeroll.

“Hey,” Gavin complained, careful not to hit the vampire too hard with the shoulder swat, “I’ll have you know I’d be a great husband.”

“Oh yeah, how so?” Ace asked, to continue the conversation if nothing else.

“I can be quite nice when I’m in love,” Gavin said, earning a raised eyebrow and sideways look, “what?”

“Shouldn’t the object be to be nice all the time?” Ace answered with his own question. Except for the few moments post-feed where Gavin’s emotions weren’t entirely organic, he’d never experienced the drudge being _nice._ Amicable, maybe. But nice?

He’d yet to see it.

“According to whom?” Gavin retorted, shrugging his shoulders, “being nice has gotten me as far as being an asshole has, and one of them is considerably more fun. So, I’m only nice when I’m in love.”

“I take it you’ve never been in love, then,” Ace deadpanned, not needing to see Gavin to feel how his face fell into a flustered mess, his lips like a fish’s gasping for air, cheeks red like the first rays of the rising sun.

“Have you?” Gavin countered, crossing his arms. He didn’t expect the vampire to answer, thinking that it really didn’t matter either way.

Ace took a moment to respond, wondering how deeply Gavin would psychoanalyze his words if he was truthful. “It isn’t until recently that my _proclivities_ have been deemed acceptable in the public eye, so, I suppose I’ve never had the chance.”

Gavin had to flick the lightbulb above his head a few times to hear what Ace was _saying_. And to be frank, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Welcome to the club, I guess,” he mumbled, hating how quickly his face went from pink to crimson.

The vampire chuckled, a small but hearty thing. He looked different like this, less like a plank of wood forced to animate—easy on the eyes.

With the round of twenty-questions indefinitely postponed, they continued their night drive, the hum of the motor gentle enough to lull Gavin into a light nap. Ace had to make sure a few times that he hadn’t disappeared, the drudge’s silence uncommon for any stretch of time. It was a few more hours before they reached their destination, the sun struggling to climb the night sky.

Gavin woke with a start at the slowing speed, disoriented, with an achy back. “Are we there yet?” he asked, voice groggy as he stretched.

“Almost, though you can see the hotel from here,” Ace said, pointing over the horizon at the building.

“ _Hotel_?” Gavin echoed, Ace’s penchant for diminishing things never failing to surprise him, “that’s a fucking skyscraper!” he exclaimed, straining his neck to see the very top.

“I hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Ace said, queuing for valet parking, “we’re in one of the penthouses.”

“My god, Ace, how much money do you have?” Gavin asked, almost disgusted.

“Too much,” the vampire replied, agreeing with Gavin’s unspoken sentiment.

Before Gavin could scoff, they were next in line, the valet boy dressed in a red velvet suit, his white gloves taking Ace’s car key with care. The bellhop was right behind him, dressed in the same suit, ready to carry their bags.

Gavin took his own luggage, apprehensive letting anyone else touch his things, as unorthodox as it might be for everyone else. He hid behind the vampire, sure he stuck out worse than a black eye, his senses overwhelmed by the gilded palace greeting them when they stepped inside.

Ace seemed to be as comfortable here as he was in his own home, pleasant and professional as he spoke to the concierge, confirming his reservation. Her eyes met Gavin’s for a brief second, the slight twitch of her nose transforming her suspicious frown into that of begrudging understanding, her shoulders tensing in the low light.

“Here you are sir,” she said, handing Ace his keys, “pardon me, but would you prefer a separate suite for your companion?” she continued, looking like she’d struggled to be amicable whilst describing Gavin.

“One should be sufficient,” Ace said, all pleasantries leaving his tone.

“Of course,” she said, ducking her head, “my apologies, enjoy your stay.”

Gavin looked between them, keeping the burning question on his tongue at bay until they were alone in the private elevator, the mechanical beast smooth and fast as it climbed the stories to the penthouse. “What the hell was that?” he asked, catching Ace’s gaze.

“We might have to take you shopping,” the vampire murmured, looking at Gavin’s common-man aesthetic with a critical eye, “I didn’t realize it was obvious you didn’t fit in.”

“No, not the bitch assuming I’m poor,” Gavin snapped, shaking his head, “that little power-struggle you two had for a second, what was that?”

Ace sighed, running a hand through his hair—this ‘plus one’ thing might be harder than he thought. “She knew you were my drudge, but your name wasn’t on the reservation, so she assumed you were there to serve as _only_ my drudge, hence why she tried to separate us.”

“And you said no, to another room?” Gavin asked, his powers of dissemination at play again, “it can’t be for a lack of money.”

“The penthouse is big enough for the both of us,” Ace replied, with sharp finality.

“Is it uncommon for vampires to keep their food where they sleep?” Gavin pressed, ignoring the basic social cue that Ace was done talking.

“We don’t really sleep,” Ace ground out, refusing to entertain the rest of the question.

“Maybe you should put my name on the reservation then,” Gavin said, exiting first when the elevator opened its doors. Whatever else he’d wanted to say was shucked away by the room. He dropped his travel bag by the door, rushing to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the city glinting like stars below them. He’d never been this high before, save for a few airplane rides. It felt unreal that something so tall could exist without collapsing.

“Enjoying the view?” Ace asked after he’d had a moment to calm down. He stood beside Gavin—his hands clasped behind his back, taking the time to memorize the landscape, to name the buildings he did recognize and store the rest for later reconstruction.

“It’s incredible,” Gavin whispered, feeling like a kid again when things were new and exciting. “Is that pool ours?” he asked, distracted by the gentle waves and bubbling water.

“The whole patio is ours,” Ace said, motioning to the door leading to the outside, “you may call room service for anything that’s not stocked and here,” he continued, handing Gavin a key, “if you decide to leave at any time.”

Overwhelmed, the drudge took the key, turning from the window to explore the rest of the suite. It looked more like a studio apartment than it did a hotel room, with steps leading to the fully stocked bar—obsolete for the vampire—and an entertainment centre worthy of a movie theatre. The back wall was adorned with live plants, and a waterfall feature, koi fish swimming in the stream. Everything seemed plucked from a catalogue like the room was on display for America’s wealthiest.

And yet, as Gavin stopped to look, there was only one bed.

When he voiced his thought, Ace looked over to the California king, his expression unperturbed, “Only one of us needs a bed to sleep,” the vampire explained, stepping away from the window, “unless you meant that as a dismissal.”

Gavin crossed his arms, tired eyes narrowing. “You’re the one who declined a second room,” he said, resuming their argument.

“A mistake then,” Ace returned, bowing his head, “easily rectified,” he said, picking up the phone from its place on the hook, his fingers poised to dial.

The silence that filled the space grew tense as Gavin waited—amused—by the other side of the bed. “I mean, you don’t have to,” he said, his smile now a smirk, “if you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask.”

The vampire, sensing a trap, didn’t say anything, counting the awkward seconds between holding the phone and putting it back on the hook. “It’s late,” Ace said as his only excuse. He retired through a set of double doors leading into the sizeable reading nook, its own view impressive.

Admitting to himself, even if briefly, that the beast inside of him couldn’t fathom sending Gavin away was one thing—having it be the focus of their conversation was the type of raw exposure he’d feared. He rubbed a hand down his face, clearing his head for the evening, no use was he to anyone contemplating the nuisance that’d hitched a ride on his back.

Gavin, for one, found this all quite entertaining, his eyes following Ace into the room until he was no more than an afterthought. Teasing the vampire was becoming second nature, his penchant for stirring the shit when it’d finally settled resurfacing after months of repression. He liked unsettling the creature, even just a little bit.

It levelled their playing field.

* * *

Gavin wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, or how he managed to ignore the wonderful smell of breakfast permeating over every square inch of vertical air space. He followed it—nose first—and took a bite of his perfect toast before he opened his eyes.

It was well into the middle of the morning, the sun shining through the tall windows like a greeting, throwing shadows where the rays hit other buildings. There was a black tint over the windows, most likely the UV repellant that made it possible for the vampire to withstand staying in a room with such a view.

Yet, said vampire wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Gavin gulped down his coffee, glad it was still hot enough to burn during its entry and finished off the double portion of pancakes and eggs, before looking around. As big as the room was, it wasn’t infinite, and with a definitive click of his tongue, he had to admit Ace wasn’t here.

It shouldn’t have surprised him, being left behind as he’d been. This trip was Ace’s from the start, he’d just tagged along for convenience. He _really_ shouldn’t have been surprised.

Ignoring the annoyed grumble settling in the back of his mind, he padded towards the bathroom, eyebrows to the sky when he noted that even this room had a view. The rainfall shower stood in the centre, black stone still glistening from previous use.

 _It hasn’t been long since he left_.

Gavin shook his head, scowling at the little voice keeping tabs on his vampire’s whereabouts. And since when did using the possessive become a norm?!

The drudge shucked his nightclothes, relieving himself of nature’s call before entering the shower, feeling like a space engineer trying to manipulate the five knobs to turn on _one_ goddamn faucet. He had to settle for getting pelted with the jet feature, jumping when it _moved_.

Exiting the shower like a wet rat, he dried himself, hair still dripping as he padded back to the bedroom, digging through his suitcase for a change of clothes. It wasn’t until he laid out his outfit on the bed that he realized it’d been made, and the empty plates cleared, a little note from housekeeping the clue to this mystery.

Gavin scoffed, not used to such immediate attendance.

Besides the housekeeping note was another envelope, it’s swirling script familiar, addressed to him. Gavin picked it up, its weight suspicious.

 _Gavin_ , it began, _I apologize for not being there when you wake, but there was a cancellation by one of the speakers and my panel got pushed up in the program. Please take this card just in case I can’t return in a timely manner._

_Sincerely,_

_Ace_

Gavin looked at the black card, its metallic body cold against his fingers. “ _Just in case,_ ” Gavin mocked, tossing the envelope and the card back on the table, wondering why Ace thought it necessary to tell him the reason for his premature exodus—like he cared.

He finished dressing, towelling his hair enough to call it damp, and idled, his fingers tapping against each other with nothing better to do. It was early enough to still call it morning, but he didn’t know where to go from there.

The black card glinted like a beacon, its attractive claim of ‘no limits’ singing to him its own siren song. Gavin ignored it, going the opposite direction to the patio. This high he expected wind to whip at him with enough force to threaten his footing. But either the architecture had accounted for the Earth’s rotation or there was a forcefield over the roof because the gentle breeze running through his hair was as unexpected as it was welcome.

Gavin walked to the balcony, leaning over the ledge, wondering if he could find his apartment from here. It was a silly notion, but it kept him entertained enough to map out the city. Below him was the shopping district, the large name brand stores making their presence known with flashy signs, beside them were restaurants—no doubt overpriced.

Gavin sighed, inundated by choices, most of which required the use of money that wasn’t technically his.

He’ll just go downstairs and look around—it didn’t mean he had to buy anything. He did take the card though—just in case.

* * *

“Wonderful theories as always, Doctor Richardson,” one of Ace’s old colleagues congratulated, patting him on the shoulder, “I only wish you’d stay to explain your thought process.”

“If he has to explain himself for you to understand, it means you weren’t paying attention,” another colleague said, drawing out guffaws from the small crowd.

Ace smiled goon-naturedly, bowing his head. It was nice to know his work was still appreciated despite its increasingly radical nature. Artificial intelligence was yet to be perceived as anything other than a gimmick, if he could prove it was more than pre-programmed answers and ones and zeroes, then he’d done some justice to his doctorates.

The vampire excused himself, making his way to the next panel. He’d be early, but that gave him a chance to collect his thoughts, and even catch other lectures. The current speaker was nearing the end of his presentation, his stage presence captivating, the audience’s eyes glued to all his movements.

It took Ace a moment to recognize him as the man whose scent nearly put him into a frenzy. What had been his name—

“Incredible, Doctor Kamski, truly a magnificent presentation,” the host said, clapping along with the audience’s standing ovation.

“Thank you,” the hybrid said, his smile anything but humble. They settled for questions, the man’s responses coming easy and rehearsed, like a song. It was during the last question, when the person asking it stood right beside Ace, that their eyes met briefly. Elijah’s recognition was immediate, his lips quirking higher before he turned to answer the question.

Ace’s skin pricked with embarrassment, knowing his first impression had been marred by his hunger. He nearly made a not-so-subtle escape, halting only by the annoying pride that seemed to overcome him when he was proving a point. So, he stood his ground, watching as the hybrid sought him out after the panel dispersed.

“I wondered if we’d meet again,” Elijah said holding out a hand, “Doctor Richardson.”

It was just as it had been during their first meeting, that distinct scent of _familiar_ as if he were scenting a room recently cleared from its buffet. “Doctor Kamski,” Ace said, taking the hand.

“You’re warm this time,” the hybrid noted, reminding them that he had _not_ forgotten their meeting. He let go of Ace, his smirk far too knowing, “No use for the punch today?”

Ace bristled, his embarrassment turning to irritation. “If you’ll excuse me—” but his tactful getaway was interrupted by a soft hand on his bicep, its owner gentling their features.

“None of that,” Elijah said with a soft tut of his tongue, “I was simply making conversations since our last one ended before it truly began.”

Ace forced himself to relax—further proving himself to be unstable in the face of teasing criticism didn’t do his reputation any favours. He chose to change the topic, rewinding to the last few moments of Elijah’s presentation. “You’re also speaking about artificial intelligence,” Ace said, latching on to anything that wasn’t him and his feeding habits.

“Yes,” Elijah nodded, dropping his hand, “your work has inspired me tremendously, though I feel it can always be improved upon.”

That took Ace back, his face stuck between disbelief and mild amusement. It wasn’t often he was challenged academically. “Is that so?”

“You’re too mechanical, Doctor, too focused on what makes the machine tick as opposed to why it wants to tick,” Elijah said with easy confidence, “if we exchanged notes I’m certain we’d come to a viable conclusion for both our theories.” There was a spark in his blue eyes, a hint of something that went beyond professional scholastic curiosity.

“I’m sure we would,” Ace said, letting himself be swayed by the unspoken proposition.

“I’ll be free sometime this evening,” Elijah said, emboldened by the promise of reciprocation, “I always carry my work with me,” he continued, tapping his temple.

“I can’t this evening,” Ace sighed, thinking not only of the last panel that would take him well into the night but Gavin, who he didn’t want to leave alone for _too_ long, lest his services go to waste. “Perhaps tomorrow?” he asked, seeing a better opening in his schedule.

“Can’t tomorrow,” Elijah said, his mood deflating, “I’m booked until midnight.”

“Some other time then,” Ace said, trying not to let disappointment sour his tone.

“I’ll let you know,” Elijah said, extending his hand again, “we’ll be here all week after all.”

* * *

So, maybe ‘just in case’ was _any_ case, Gavin thought, watching the bellhop struggle to juggle all his shopping bags under each of his arms. To be fair, most of the things weren’t for him. He’d been looking around the shopping district, many items reminding him of things his mother had wished for in passing or had needed for years but couldn’t afford. At least he could hide behind altruism if Ace raised his brows.

The rest—which was a sizeable minority, he wouldn’t lie—was for him. He’d expanded his wardrobe so snobby receptionists wouldn’t ask if ‘he was lost,’ before ushering him through the front door like yesterday’s trash.

It shouldn’t matter, and it _didn’t_ , but there was nothing wrong with playing dress-up on occasion.

The day passed quickly, thrusting him into the early evening, the sun’s orange glow over the city cascading like fire over the wooden floors. Gavin ordered room service, deciding it was best to take another shower whilst he waited.

He was towelling his hair, dressed in a comfy bathrobe when the elevator dinged someone’s arrival. It wasn’t the food, that was sitting on a large silver cart, the hot things being kept at an optimal temperature by burners.

Gavin nearly turned around, a sliver of embarrassment coiling around his chest. He hadn’t even had a chance to pack away his purchases.

 _Evidence_ —corrected his hindbrain.

Ace stepped out of the elevator and paused, his eyes taking everything at once. They settled over Gavin’s slightly damp hair and fluffy white robe—his face still red from the shower. He killed the smile threatening to burst through his lips, not wanting to scare his drudge into thinking anything he’d done displeased him.

“How was your day?” the vampire asked instead, removing his suit jacket, and placing it on the nearby hook, doing the same to his keys.

“Fine,” Gavin replied, forcing his limbs to animate towards the bed where he’d laid out his nightclothes, wondering why the hell he hadn’t thought to bring those with him in the bathroom. He shuffled into his underwear, conscious of the extra set of eyes. By the time he could comfortably remove the robe, Ace had laid out dinner for him, some quirk of his ‘provider’ role, Gavin was sure. “How was yours?” Gavin asked, returning the curtesy before he sat down to eat.

“Eventful,” Ace said taking the seat opposite, “I’ve probably answered more questions today than I have in the last ten years,” he mused, “and I’ll do it all again tomorrow.”

Gavin hummed, reserving his energy for eating. He always forgot how hungry he was until its insistence was carving a hole in his stomach.

“I’m glad you got to explore a little,” Ace said, sounding genuine, “the hotel is nice, but it pales to what you can do with the proper resources.”

The drudge looked away, his face burning hotter before he rummaged through his wallet for the vampire’s credit card. “Take it,” he said, dropping the card like it’d burned him. Its metallic body clinked against the glass, ringing between them.

“I’ve no use for it this week,” Ace reassured, pushing it back in Gavin’s direction, “I’d much rather you have it.”

“Ace, I don’t—” Gavin stopped, putting down his utensil so he could think. He met the vampire’s stare dead-on, watching as his curious blue eyes met his with no judgement, just patience as if he’d been waiting for his rebuttal. “Would you do this with anyone else? With another employee?” he asked, voicing the question that’d been bugging him since Ace bought him a fucking car.

“Why would I do this with anyone else, you’re my—”

“Just answer the question,” Gavin snapped, interrupting Ace’s predictable retort.

Ace’s eyes narrowed, his calm countenance evaporating. Why did it matter? “I wouldn’t be as generous as handing them my credit card,” he replied with honesty, “but if the circumstances called for it, I wouldn’t be averse to providing them with extra financial help.”

“So, what, you’re just that much of a philanthropist that you’ll give your money away to virtual strangers?” _Without ulterior motives?_ Gavin finished mentally.

“An employee is not that much of a stranger,” Ace countered, his head leaning to the side.

“I’m just trying to figure out if you see what I see,” Gavin said, hoping he didn’t have to spell it out for the vampire.

“Which is what, exactly?”

Apparently, luck was not on his side.

“Nowadays,” Gavin began in a semi-whisper, “when a rich, old, man takes an interest in a pretty, young, boy, it’s not always with the purest of intentions.”

The twitch of Ace’s face was enough to show Gavin he’d understood, even if he hadn’t wanted to. “You think I want something _else_ from you?” Ace asked, not stating the obvious.

“I didn’t say me,” Gavin corrected, holding up his hands, “I just wanted to make sure you knew what this looked like, you know, to _strangers_ ,” he continued, biting into his bread pudding.

“Does it matter to you that much what other people think?” Ace said, leaning against his chair, keeping his hands above the table lest he cross them over his chest in frustration.

“I don’t give a fuck what other people think,” Gavin retorted, pointing his spoon to the vampire, “but I don’t want them getting the wrong idea about us either.”

Ace would ask why it mattered that they did if he _truly didn’t care_ , but he knew enough about Gavin to realize it’d be the wrong question to ask—at least for now. “I’m sure they won’t,” he replied after a moment, meeting Gavin’s incredulous stare with his own, “and if they do, you’re more than welcome to correct them.”

Gavin scoffed, finishing his dessert with an indiscernible mumble. He packed away the dishes, putting them close to the elevator, and sat on the couch, presenting his arm like he would in the feeding room. “Eat, before I decide to go to bed without feeding you,” he instructed, unable to quell the anticipation bubbling inside his abdomen.

Ace stood with the grace of a king, straightening his vest before accepting Gavin’s back-handed invitation. Taking his wrist with care, Ace sniffed the remnants of the pine-scented soap they’d stocked in the bathroom before Gavin’s unique tones of spicy maple and annoyed citrus flitted under his nose. He couldn’t help the dart of his tongue around his lips, how his mouth filled with saliva and venom with embarrassing speed.

It was better than a blood bag by a long shot, from the sink of his fangs into the crook of Gavin’s wrist, to the warm flow of blood down his throat, soothing the worst of his burn like a fire extinguisher. He often didn’t waste time with these things, but there was something quite satisfying in knowing this blood was meant entirely for him.

“Do I…do I taste good?” Gavin asked, starling the vampire into opening the eyes he hadn’t noticed he’d shut. It’d been said so cautiously, like the drudge was afraid of a reprimand for intruding, for insinuating. “Actually, don’t answer that,” Gavin rushed, looking away.

Ace swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat, unhooking his fangs from Gavin’s wrist and closing the wound with a flat swipe of his tongue. “Do you want me to answer that honestly or—”

“I said _don’t_ answer it,” the drudge replied, cheeks as red as his fresh bruise. His pulse bounced hard where Ace still held him, wishing it’d cease to save him from further embarrassment.

“It depends on your mood, Gavin, it influences your flavour profile enough to change it each time we feed,” Ace said, answering anyway, “but most of the time you just taste like a warm, hearty meal—filling and homely.”

It was honest, Gavin could give him that much credit, but it wasn’t exactly what he’d expected to hear. He willed his face to calm down, for the blood in his cheeks to return to his veins. “I taste like home?” he asked after forcing himself to meet the vampire’s eyes.

“You taste familiar, which I suppose home is a familiar place,” Ace replied with a frown, “why do you ask?”

“It’s just, you seem to be enjoying yourself, so,” Gavin let his sentence die and despite his best efforts, the burn in his cheeks returned stronger than before.

“Does it bother you that I do?”

It was quite the loaded question, answering seemed tricky—a trap either way. Gavin wasn’t even sure how to be honest. Did he like being tasty to the vampire? Was that even something he should worry about as a drudge?

“It doesn’t upset me,” Gavin admitted after much deliberation, “but it seems quite one-sided.”

“I apologize,” Ace said, looking at the wrist in his hands, still wet with his saliva, “I don’t know how to make this enjoyable for you.”

Gavin looked aghast, pulling away so he could bury his head in his hands. “Don’t _say_ shit like that,” he nearly wailed, shivering with mortification.

“There’s no use in lying, and omitting the truth could be quite as detrimental,” Ace said, purposely obtuse.

“You could’ve just left it at an apology and that’s it,” Gavin said, curling up further into a ball, “or just ignored me like I told you to.”

“You tend to ignore the consequences when curiosity gets the best of you,” Ace said after a definitive second, his smile on the edge of teasing, “we seem to have that in common.”

“Just shut up and finish eating,” Gavin snapped, blindly shooting out his arm for the vampire to take. Much to his further dismay, Ace chuckled, finding his discomfiture quite amusing.

“You’re quite sweet when you’re embarrassed,” Ace murmured through a mouthful of flesh, earning another strong gush of fang-rotting blood for his efforts.

* * *

Gavin heard Ace get ready the next morning, it’d been a light night of sleep after all. He still couldn’t get over what he’d asked, much less Ace’s brutal honesty. So, deciding it was best for his mental fortitude to remain in bed granted him unfiltered access to the vampire’s routine. It wasn’t much different from his own: shower, get dressed, comb your hair. He’d even ordered breakfast, though of course, it wasn’t for _him_.

“If we’re both pretending you’re still asleep, I’ll say this for my benefit,” Ace began whilst waiting for the elevator, “my panel ends earlier tonight, so if there was somewhere you wanted to go but couldn’t without a car, then you’re more than welcome to wait for me.”

Gavin didn’t reply, holding still in case he could mislead the vampire into thinking he _was_ asleep and that he’d been foolish for assuming otherwise.

Ace sighed, the shake of his head audible by the rustle of his clothes, “Or you could always rent a car, your choice,” he said, stepping into the elevator, “see you later, Gavin.”

The man in question stayed in bed until he was certain he was alone, peeling back the comforters to cool his overheated flesh. His skin prickled wherever he exposed it to the air, making him shiver deeper into the mattress. He forced himself out of bed, stumbling into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

Everything was just so _warm_ as if he’d donned an extra layer of skin. _Sensitive_ skin, like a newborn. The goosebumps on his arms nearly hurt, the hair standing at the back of his neck miniature daggers pressing their dangerous insistence into his muscles. He heard the distant ding of the elevator signalling his breakfast had arrived.

For once, though, he wasn’t hungry.

Gavin jumped into the shower fully clothed, turning the jets ice-cold, yelping when they hit him. He shut off the shower, panting against black stone. Stuck between the desire to remove his clothes—extra layer of skin and everything—and taking a proper shower, he decided it was best to meet somewhere in the middle.

He’d yet to take a dip in the pool.

It was warm, he could deduce that much, but each water molecule seemed to cling to his skin, introducing its individual temperature until they combined into one sensation. He could only describe it as sensory overload like he’d been plugged into the world in 4K.

“Chloe, I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Gavin said into his cellphone, dripping a puddle in the middle of the wooden floor. He was on a verge of a breakdown and apart from his mom—who had crossed his mind—there was only one other person he’d trust to know what was going on.

“What do you mean, what’s wrong?” she asked, immediately on high alert.

“I just, I woke up and I can feel _everything_ ,” Gavin said, his teeth chattering, “the air is painful against my skin, I can’t even stand my own clothes on me.”

“Oh, Gavin,” she said, empathy replacing her fear, “I forget you’re hypersensitive,” she added, speaking to herself. “It’s your ‘drudge sense’ for the lack of a better term. In a regular drudge, it’s a slow progression of abilities that makes you a bit more aware of your surroundings. It grows with each feed until its fully established itself into your nervous system.”

“A _bit_ ,” Gavin parroted in disbelief, “Chloe, I can feel each water droplet like it has its own brain, what do you mean a _bit_?”

“Yes, these heightened senses can be intense at first, you just have to get used to them,” Chloe said, the smile in her voice warm, “I’m sorry it’s happening to you all at once, but this is a good thing, trust me—it means your bond with Ace is growing, soon you’ll be reading each other’s thoughts.”

“Chloe!”

“I’m kidding,” she said, unable to help her chuckle, “it’s more like your emotions, makes keeping the peace easier when you can sense what the other is feeling.”

“That _doesn’t_ make me feel better,” Gavin nearly sobbed, hissing when the clouds parted, and the sun rays hit his skin like a red-hot poker.

“I did tell you,” Chloe reminded, a bit more serious, “you just have to give it time,” she continued, giving him a virtual pat on the head like she would any distraught child.

Gavin restrained his groan, but only barely, “Is there anything I can do in the meantime?” he asked, another shiver curled up his spine, little spider legs crawling on his bones.

“Wear light, natural fabric clothes, especially ones that cover your limbs,” she began, running over a mental checklist, “you’ll also want to stock up on fluids, all that shivering and sweating will leave you dehydrated.”

“Thank you,” Gavin sighed, grateful for her help despite his attitude.

“Anytime, and Gavin,” she paused, unsure if this would make his situation better or worse. She opted to tell him regardless, wanting to arm him with the knowledge _beforehand_. “Don’t let Ace feed for too long, with the venom’s vasoactive properties and your heightened sensitivity, I’m sure I don’t have to spell out _why_.”

He was gonna have a conniption, he was sure of it, the housekeeper would find him in a puddle of his own embarrassment and his tombstone would read ‘Here lies Gavin Reed, who died from information overload.’

“I got it,” he managed to chew out, “goodbye Chloe.”

“Bye, Gavin,” she said, letting out a little laugh at his hurried click.

* * *

Gavin managed a few bites of his breakfast before he gave up, everything tasted like too much. Too sweet, too sour, too salty, eggs too scrambled, toast too flaky, butter too _soft_.

He felt like a caged animal, poked, and prodded by the universe’s stun baton. As if by some cruel coincidence, yesterday’s shopping spree had proved useful, the cotton long-sleeve tee shirt and cotton sweatpants covering most of his irritable skin.

At least he could breathe and not be pricked by the fine shifts in the air pressure.

Snuggling into the only blanket that didn’t grate his touch receptors, he settled into the couch, flipping through the million and one channels just to end up watching his childhood cartoons. Nostalgia must be quite the sleep-aid because, by the time he realized he’d fallen asleep, Ace’s light footsteps rapped on his consciousness, startling him awake.

“Sorry,” the vampire apologized, “didn’t mean to wake you,” he continued, putting down a box of metallic trinkets.

 _Junk_ , Gavin corrected. “They’re giving you homework now?”

Ace frowned, looking at the little unfinished project donated by a few of his former students and back at Gavin, unsure why it’d felt they’d been insulted. “Just because it seems a chore, doesn’t make it work.”

Gavin rolled his eyes, not moving from the warmth of his cocoon. “Sounds like a contradiction,” he sighed, returning his attention to the yellow sponge on the screen, “but we’ll agree to disagree.”

Ace’s frown deepened, and as much as he’d like to argue, it’d be pointless. Instead, he went about picking apart the more promising projects, taking mental notes as he deconstructed each one of them and put them back together, their purpose revealed through his ministrations.

The elevator’s ding split his concentration, room service stopping by to deliver dinner. Ace thanked them, rolling the silver cart to the unoccupied part of the table. He was halfway through serving the first dish when he noticed Gavin hadn’t moved an inch, not even a tilt of his head towards the smell.

“Not hungry?” Ace guessed, finding that hard to believe. If anything remained consistent, it was the drudge’s voracious appetite.

“Not really,” Gavin admitted, sparing a glance at the vampire, “you can just save it for tomorrow.”

Ace paused—the serving spoon he’d been holding suspended in mid-air. Not one to let food go to waste, he did as he was told, returning the silver cart beside the elevator. With his hands empty, he idled, unable to resume his tinkering, that little voice in his head nagging him to investigate.

“I’m inclined to ask, Gavin,” he began knowing he had the drudge’s attention by the dramatic lift of his brows, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Gavin replied, his tone pitched high, “why wouldn’t it be?”

Gavin would probably laugh him out of the room if he told him he’d based the question off a hunch. So, despite his better judgement, he let it drop, nodding once.

“Are you hungry?” Gavin asked into the fragile silence. The vampire wasn’t the only one with a nagging voice egging them on.

“It was quite the busy day,” Ace admitted, albeit a bit shy. He’d met so many familiar faces, some who’d he’d failed in a previous class who came to thank him for it, others were retired professors who shared his passion for teaching without restraints. The one person he’d meant to see hadn’t crossed his sights—disappointment stuck with him longer than the fading sun. 

“That’s why I’m here, right?” Gavin said, unearthing his arm from the blankets, “a renewable resource.”

Ace’s smile was ironic, letting his long legs carry him to the couch and take residence beside his drudge. “You’ve gotta’ stop considering yourself as only my food,” he said, almost a reprimand.

“Oh yeah, then what else am I?” Gavin retorted, tracking Ace’s movements, “your employee?”

“At this point, I hope an acquaintance,” Ace replied, ignoring his drudge’s derisive chuckle, “god forbid we become friends.”

“I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than waste your time becoming my friend,” Gavin teased, a note of self-deprecation sneaking its way into his tone.

“Seems inevitable, though,” the vampire mused, rubbing his chin, “a consequence of our proximity.”

“Well, you better keep your proximity in check,” Gavin grumbled, “or I’ll start setting up alarms.”

Ace would be offended if the idea weren’t so amusing. Absentmindedly, he went to grab Gavin’s arm, his good humour snuffed by the static shock. The drudge must’ve felt it too, for he snatched his arm back, burying it deep into his makeshift cocoon.

Side-stepping the irritation flowing like molten rock from his fangs, Ace pinned Gavin with a stare, half-expecting the drudge to relent. If anything, the silent confrontation had him shrinking deeper into his blankets, his pink face going scarlet.

Ace couldn’t stop the hand he pressed into Gavin’s forehead, keeping himself from recoiling by sheer will alone. “You’re burning up,” he said, running his hand down the length of Gavin’s overheated face, further still to pulse point under his jaw.

The drudge keened, a high and pained thing, forcing Ace to drop his hand, teeth coming together to form the ‘s’ for his apology yet falling short, unable to piece any more than the breath necessary to speak.

“I guess I’m not that hungry either,” Ace said through the painful lurch of his fangs.

Gavin was in no position to argue that point. Ace’s fingers were like electric coils, sharp and far too lively on his exposed nerves. They’d arrested his voice the moment he pressed into his jugular, everything that made him human pooling under the contact.

The vampire was quick to exit the loft, nothing more than a shadow leaning over the patio’s ledge.

* * *

Gavin had to force himself out of bed the next morning if nothing else but to block out the sun burning down his pupils. He played with the shower’s knobs for thirty minutes, finding a configuration that didn’t feel like it was assaulting his cells, and ate breakfast through a plugged nose.

 _Time_ , Chloe said, _he had to give it time._

Gavin sighed, looking over a city that’d seemed endless that first night. He didn’t want to spend the rest of this impromptu vacation indoors like a shut-in, though the thought of leaving did put an itch in his skin. Willing himself to commit, he picked up the phone from its cradle, dialling the guest services number and preparing a rental car, hoping that the metallic shell was enough to protect him on his adventure.

If nothing else, the city _was_ nice. It lacked the broken down and decrepit film clinging to Detroit’s outer edges, to the abandoned car factories that’d been left to rot from broken promises of a ‘grand reopening.’

He drove down the street, aimless in his exploration. Ace hadn’t been kidding, there were plenty of things to do here, most of which required prior reservations or knowledge on what to do, but still. If there was a next time at least he was better prepared.

His car ride took him to a quieter part of town, the ‘Historic District’ which looked preserved rather than old. He stopped by a hole in the wall, _Fisher’s Bookstore_ , read the sign over the door. Gavin thought twice about going in, the uncomfortable memory of failing Middle School English far stronger than it had any right being. But he figured a bookstore might be as good a distraction as any, given that it wasn’t overly full.

As he entered, a little bell announced his presence just as a black cat crossed his path, snaking its silky body through his legs, pawing at his pants.

“Cali,” a male voice reprimanded from somewhere high, “leave the gentleman alone!”

Both the cat and Gavin looked up to see who was speaking. The voice made itself visible as it climbed down the ladder, a heavy stack of books in one of their arms. He approached Gavin, dwarfing the young man with his full height.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, scooping Cali into his other arm, muscles tensing beneath his shirt, “she’s too friendly for her own good.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Gavin said, reaching out to scratch the cat’s face, her head pushing against his hand for more attention, “I love cats.” The moment he said so, Cali bit him, making him jump and recoil.

“Right, she’s also a bit of a bitch,” the man said dropping her so she could run the opposite way, “sorry, again.”

“I’m used to that too,” Gavin said, taking a good look at what he presumed to be the shopkeeper. He was a handsome man with light-brown hair and matching eyes, his skin tan from either the weather or genetics, with tattoos that reached the base of his neck and spread to the edge of his wrists.

“I can tell,” the man said, winking, “what brings you in?”

Gavin flushed, not sure what he did to make the man say such a thing. His hand went to the welt on his shoulder, wondering if it’d peaked over the collar. “I was just driving around,” he admitted, rubbing his neck, “was kinda’ bored.”

“Well, reading is an excellent pastime,” the man said, dropping the books he was carrying on the checkout counter. “My name is Julian, by the way—I own the place if it wasn’t obvious,” he said, holding out his hand.

Gavin accepted it, feeling like a child in the man’s large palm. “Gavin,” he replied out of courtesy.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Gavin, feel free to look around, ask for help, whatever suits your fancy,” Julian said, returning to his books.

Gavin nodded, making a show of looking around, even opening a few of the hardbacks and flipping through the pages. He couldn’t help how his gaze lingered on the busy bodied man, sneaking glances when his back was turned, listening to his baritone whilst he rang out other customers.

Cali seemed to be fixated on Gavin’s pants, taking some of his attention away. He stooped low to pet her, jumping when Julian crossed his line of sight, restocking the shelves, “Find anything yet?” he asked, polite enough that Gavin didn’t think he was trying to kick him out—yet.

“Not really,” Gavin admitted, turning red, “I’m not much of a reader.”

“Yes, that would make things difficult,” Julian agreed, stepping closer and reading what Gavin had been subconsciously returning to since he’d entered the store, “you seem drawn to these,” he said, pulling out one of the books. _The Basics of Chess_ , read the spine, written many decades before Gavin’s birth.

“Am I?” Gavin said, trying to feign ignorance. Of course, he’d seen it, his hands itched to open it, to see if any of its words would give him an advantage. He was competitive enough to try to get better.

“Do you play?” Julian asked, opening the book to a random page.

“Occasionally,” Gavin admitted, “you?”

“I’ve got a chessboard in the reading room, but I fear at this point it’s more of a decorative piece than an actual game,” the man admitted, his grin coming easy, countenance relaxed.

“I’m sure we could fix that,” Gavin teased, giving his best smile, “unless you’re busy?”

“Not at all,” Julian said, taking the book with him, “Cali, man the desk,” he commanded, and for a moment the cat looked like she’d agreed to do it.

They settled into opposite ends of the chess table, Gavin with the ivory pieces and Julian the ebony. In true gentlemanly fashion, Julian let Gavin go first, admiring his pawn’s double jump.

“You have played before,” Julian said, taking his time with his pieces, Gavin’s strategy chaotic but not random.

“A few times,” Gavin admitted, grinning like a mad cat. He hadn’t believed Chloe when she’d said he’d get better, now he had Julian in check.

“A _few_ times,” Julian parroted, sacrificing his queen as a last-ditch effort.

“Checkmate,” Gavin declared, trying not to celebrate too hard lest he get kicked out for his showboating.

“You don’t need the basics, Gavin, you’ve got those down,” Julian said, accepting defeat with a shake of the hand.

“I guess,” Gavin replied, his face bright red, “I’m just trying to win against someone much better than me.”

“Sometimes it’s about getting into that person’s head as opposed to any strategy,” Julian said, the beginnings of sage advice, “if they’ve got anything over you, it might put you at a disadvantage, whether you’re aware of it or not, forcing you to concede even before the game began.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, if I said, ‘you’ve got really beautiful eyes, they really brighten your smile,’” he began, looking like he’d fawn over Gavin if given the chance, “then it might get you flustered.”

Gavin scoffed, rubbing the redness from his cheeks, “That doesn’t work on me,” he grumbled, resetting the board, and starting another round as if to prove a point.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Julian said offhandedly, his eyes flirty and playful as he moved his pieces across the board, “really brings out those eyes.”

Gavin felt like a fire hydrant, an alarming shade of red ready to burst with only a few twists. It made it hard to concentrate, he didn’t realize how much until Julian declared checkmate. “I guess I see what you mean,” Gavin said, taking the offered hand again. “So, what, I just gotta’ flirt with my opponent?”

“Not necessarily, though it never hurts to try,” Julian said, running his thumb over Gavin’s knuckles.

“You can stop that now,” Gavin warned, unable to muster the steam to mean it.

“My apologies,” Julian said, returning his hand to his side, “I do wish you luck in your endeavours,” he continued, pushing the book towards Gavin, “for a game well played.”

“I can pay for it,” Gavin said, going for Ace’s credit card.

“No need, it’s on the house,” Julian reassured, resetting the board before standing.

Gavin wanted to argue, did he really look so in need of handouts that he couldn’t afford a simple twenty-dollar book?

He forced himself to inhale, knowing his ire wasn’t with the shopkeeper and he shouldn’t take it out on him. “Thank you,” he said instead, and if his jaw had been a little tense, it wasn’t anybody’s business but his own.

* * *

The first thing Ace noticed when stepping through the elevator was Gavin’s scent. There was a hint of _other_. And not a pleasant other, it had his lips twisting upwards in a snarl, a red film coating his vision like fire. A primal instinct to be rid of the scent consumed him and it took every ounce of control not to follow through with smothering Gavin in his arms until he smelled _right_ again.

“Hello to you too,” Gavin said, quick to note Ace’s hard stare, “what’s crawled up your ass and died?” He asked it lounging on the couch, a book balanced on his knees and a sandwich in his hands.

The vampire growled, a deep rumble in the back of his throat, as he rooted his feet to the ground, fighting the urge to corner Gavin. His nostrils flared as the scent of _other_ assaulted him. It was an affront to his vampiric senses, this intruder, this being had spoilt what was his.

Ace growled again, covering his face. “Where were you today?” he managed to grunt.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Gavin replied, rolling his eyes.

“Yes,” the vampire replied feeling his jaw pop with the clench of his teeth, “that’s why I fucking asked.”

Gavin’s gaze snapped to Ace’s, his half-chewed bite going down dry. That was perhaps the first time Gavin had heard the other man curse, not even when he’d lost his composure had he lost the careful control over his words.

“I was at the bookstore,” Gavin said, not feeling like testing the vampire’s thinned patience. He pointed to the object on his lap, hoping it’d been clear he wasn’t lying.

Ace wouldn’t point out there was a mini-library just through the double doors, or that books were accessible to him online—it’d be a waste of breath and detrimental to rebuilding whatever relationship he had with Gavin. He did, however, ask, “Were you perhaps with anyone at the bookstore?”

“It’s a bookstore, there’s _people_ there,” Gavin replied, like the vampire was dense, “and even if I was? Are you gonna’ tell me I can’t be?” he challenged.

“Gavin,” Ace growled, not in the mood for a power-struggle, “I’m just trying to figure out why you smell different.”

“Different?” Gavin echoed, sniffing the air around him, the fabric of his shirt, coming up blank. “What do you mean different?”

“I know what I mean.”

“Yeah, well I don’t,” Gavin retorted, putting away his unfinished sandwich and closing the book, “what do you mean by different?” he pressed, standing up to get closer to the vampire. He didn’t miss how Ace bared his fangs, a warning that should’ve scared him more than it did. 

“Were you around another vampire?” Ace asked, his reaction hinging heavily on Gavin’s reply. God, he didn’t know what he’d do if Gavin said yes. It was devastating enough to have him smelling like someone else.

“I don’t fucking know! I’m not the one with some creepy sixth sense for these things,” Gavin said, his face dark red.

“Gavin, you must know—” Ace interrupted himself, feeling a modicum of relief. So, it hadn’t been on purpose. “You can’t—”

“Stop,” Gavin said, effectively hushing the vampire, “stop before you say something stupid,” he continued, his warning ringing loud and clear. “You don’t own me, so you have _no_ right telling me what I can and can’t do.”

Ace didn’t reply, knowing he’d lost the battle the moment he’d opened his mouth. His drudge was right, he didn’t have a claim on his free-will, on his decisions outside of their feeds. If Gavin wanted to unknowingly surround himself with another vampire’s scent, then they’d all have to suffer through it. Nevertheless, his instincts were older than he was, he could scarcely be held responsible if the did something uncouth to his anonymous challenger.

“I’m going to bed,” Gavin said, as effective a dismissal as telling Ace to leave would’ve been. “Maybe you should’ve brought the cooler, not as offensive,” Gavin murmured after he’d buried himself in the sheets.

Ace remained silent and simply retired to the reading nook, shunning all instinct in favour of letting the dust settle.

* * *

Gavin hadn’t slept a wink—his thoughts ran themselves ragged going over Ace’s words. _Why do you smell different?_ The drudge pressed against his neck, his pulse trembling beneath his fingers. He truly hadn’t known, and unless cats smelled like vampires there was only one person it could be.

“Gavin?” Julian asked, pleasantly surprised to see the smaller male on the other side of his door, “Hi, come—”

“Are you a vampire?” Gavin asked, keeping a safe distance from the shopkeeper, his umbrella held tighter as late-September rain hit it like it was personal.

“Hybrid,” Julian clarified, showing his smaller-than-average fangs, “not as easy to spot.”

Gavin’s pulse quickened, an anticipatory shiver running down his spine, warmth pooling at his neck. It’d been too long since Ace fed, he was starting to notice the consequences.

“Sorry,” Julian apologized, taking Gavin’s reaction as a negative one and increasing the gap.

“No, it’s fine,” Gavin insisted, shaking his head, “used to it, remember.”

“Right,” the hybrid said, his smile less brilliant, “would you still like to come in or is this all you needed?”

Gavin looked around, the storm clouds angry and unrelenting compared to the heat radiating from the shop. “I’ll come in,” he said, already closing his umbrella and dipping into the shop.

“Coffee?” Julian asked, walking into the back, and returning with a pot and two mugs.

“Sure,” he replied, though food was the last thing on his mind. It did smell good, rich, and dark with a hint of cinnamon and hazelnut, which had him thinking if he could smell this what could Ace smell, what could Julian. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but what do I smell like to you?” Gavin asked, clutching the mug, unable to make direct eye-contact.

Julian paused, unsure where this topic of conversation was going or even if he should entertain the answer. It wasn’t often humans asked him these things. “Well, you’re definitely claimed,” Julian said, taking a deep breath and holding it, “but it’s not entirely unpleasant, your blood is strong,” the hybrid continued, feeling a pang in his gums.

“Yeah, I keep hearing that, but all I smell is the soap I showered with,” Gavin said, self-conscious.

“Well, of course, you’re not gonna’ be able to smell what we smell, it’s a different pathway altogether,” Julian said, putting down his mug for a moment to face the drudge, “may I?” he asked, pointing to Gavin’s neck.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked, his heart kicking into overdrive.

“Don’t worry, I don’t wanna’ incur the wrath of your vampire,” Julian reassured, “I just need a better sample.”

Gavin was shy when he exposed his neck, his face going crimson the more the hybrid sniffed him. His palms grew clammy and itchy the closer Julian got until finally, the hybrid had buried his nose in his neck, inhaling like he’d never breathed before.

“Gavin, you do smell good,” Julian sighed, “I think it helps that I’m only _half_ affected by your vampire’s deterrent,” he whispered, careful not to overstep his boundaries and continue his education. “Every bitten pulse point has a concentration of blood and venom—I can tell they like your neck the most.” There was a tease at the end of his tone, almost like they were sharing a secret.

“It’s normally on accident,” Gavin confessed, feeling out of breath—a tensed string ready to collapse. They were so close, but only Julian’s nose was brushing against his skin.

“I can imagine,” Julian said, his voice a low rumble in his chest, “I have a feeling there’s been plenty of accidents between you two.” He continued, fingers hovering over the bright bruise.

“He, uh, he didn’t like that I smelled different,” Gavin said, his voice trembling.

Julian’s head snapped up, looking deep into Gavin’s eyes, “Of course he didn’t, he probably thought I was challenging him,” he said, his grin playful. Never one to assume, he couldn’t help but notice the masculine scent of the other vampire in Gavin’s veins, he was glad he’d been right.

“I’d think because you were a hybrid it wouldn’t matter,” Gavin said, relaxing for a moment.

“I’m still a vampire, no matter if it’s half, a third, a _pinch_ , he’s gonna’ notice,” Julian said, wiping away the bead of sweat collecting on Gavin’s forehead, “you’re his drudge Gavin, he’s going to be very protective of you.”

“He’s a prick,” Gavin spat, crossing his arms.

“They can be,” Julian agreed, his smile returning brighter than before.

“I mean, how is it my fault you’re a hybrid?” Gavin asked.

“It’s not.”

Gavin took a deep breath, stepping away from the man to clear his head. “This is all so fucking confusing,” he said, rubbing his temples, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was jealous.”

“Possession and jealousy share many wires,” Julian agreed, returning to his coffee, “they can often get crossed without our consent.”

“Well he needs to learn to _uncross_ them before everyone starts getting the wrong idea,” Gavin said, slurping down the rest of his hot drink.

“Everyone?” Julian asked, taking the liberty to follow it up with, “or you?”

* * *

“You’re cold again.” The voice had startled him, coming over his shoulder as it had, accompanied by the pat of a hand. “I almost had to double-check you were the same person.”

“Good evening, Doctor Kamski,” Ace replied, ignoring the hybrid’s penchant for pointing out the obvious. It reminded him too much of Gavin.

“Please, Elijah,” the hybrid corrected, taking a seat opposite Ace’s private table, “I would hope at this point we’re more than friendly with each other.”

“Come to swap theories?” Ace asked, not yet comfortable sharing the same level of intimacy he afforded any friend.

“If you want,” Elijah said, leaning on his hand, “or we could just talk.”

Ace narrowed his eyes, recognizing that mischievous twinkle in the hybrid’s blue eyes. “I’ve learned that talking with you is not just about talking, Elijah.”

“Oh yeah, what gave you that idea?” the younger of the two asked, leaning further into their personal bubble.

“Experience,” Ace said, leaving it at that.

“Is that same ‘experience’ keeping you from eating?” the hybrid guessed, his smirk widening at Ace’s failed attempt at concealing his shock, “it is, isn’t it?”

“You seem to be as fixated on my eating habits as my drudge is,” Ace said, standing from the table, dismissing himself, “if you’ll excuse me, Doctor.”

“Can’t really blame them,” Elijah called out, quick to follow the vampire, “it’s a very fascinating topic of conversation, especially when it draws blood to your cheeks in such an ample manner.” Ace scoffed, unable to deny the man the truth, not when it was splotched over his face like rouge. “I really would love to continue talking, though, about our theories if nothing else.” Elijah managed to step in front of the vampire, block his heated path to the exit. “I’m free right now if you’re amenable.”

“I’m sure whatever we can discuss in person we can exchange through e-mails,” Ace grumbled, his nostrils flaring at the scent that wouldn’t have affected him if he were fully fed.

“But it’s so impersonal that way,” Elijah objected, poking the vampire’s chest with a finger, “where’s your compassion, your humanity?”

“I’m not human,” Ace reminded.

“You’re scarcely a machine,” Elijah countered, looking far too pleased with himself.

Ace sighed, rubbing the tender point between his eyes. “Lead the way, if it means that much to you that we talk.”

“You’ve just made my whole day,” Elijah said, locking his arm around Ace’s, maneuvering through the dying crowd, ushering them into an unoccupied room. There was a desk in the centre, more than a few papers littering its surface alongside a computer, and unfinished trinkets comparable to the ones Ace had at the hotel.

“I may or may not have assumed you would say yes,” Elijah said, pouring two glasses of blood wine, if the smell was anything to go by, “I hope you don’t mind.”

Ace ignored him, looking over the papers on the desk. “These are my journals,” Ace said, recognizing his own words, “you’ve got a lot of things to say,” he continued, raising a brow at the red marks and counterpoints to all his arguments.

“Not all of it bad,” Elijah reassured, returning with the wine, “and nothing I wouldn’t expect you to realize on your own.”

Ace shook his head at the offered glass, going instead to one of the trinkets, “What’s this?” he asked, unable to extract meaning from the black rectangle.

“A diagnostic machine,” Elijah replied, taking it from Ace’s hands to demonstrate, “you simply place it on anything with an electrical current and it checks for parts, what may need to be replaced, what could be upgraded, model numbers, et cetera.” He put it on the computer, watching the rectangle whirr to life, command lines writing themselves with the exact specifications. “It’s still a prototype,” Elijah commented, taking a sip of the blood wine.

“Many things are never truly finished,” Ace said, looking back at his papers, “I’ve been perfecting the same car design since its conception and I’ve yet to be satisfied with it.”

“Better to pretty it up and sell before others get privy of your failure,” Elijah teased, his eyes wicked with knowledge.

“It does feel like that, yes,” Ace agreed, shuffling through the journals to find Elijah’s. They didn’t suffer the same red fate and Ace could see why. It wasn’t difficult to admit the man had a point. “Impressive, though calling it the ‘Kamski Test’ is a bit presumptuous—our theories are never guaranteed to take.”

“My work is my progeny,” the hybrid elucidated, taking another sip of his drink, “I’ve got to put my name on something.”

“I’m sure a spouse is easier than a theory,” Ace said, unable to restrain his smirk.

“You’d be surprised,” Elijah laughed, his cheeks going pink, “not many people hold my interest for long, not like theories, yours specifically.”

“Despite how you’ve deconstructed all my points just to make new ones, I’m flattered,” the vampire replied, genuine.

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t care,” Elijah revealed, downing the rest of his drink, making a face when he reached the end, “I hope this means you won’t mind if I ask you to continue this conversation somewhere private.”

“More private than this?” Ace asked, gesturing to their relative seclusion.

“Yes,” Elijah said, bold but anxious, one of his fingers tapping the glass for comfort, “unless you have somewhere to be, by all means, don’t let me hold you.”

“I appreciate the offer, Elijah, but I might have to do more homework before I’m comfortable deconstructing your theories,” Ace said, looking at his untouched glass of wine.

“Right,” Elijah said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, “wouldn’t want your drudge to worry.”

“It’s not like that,” Ace said, a reflex. Gavin’s mocking words echoed in his skull _, I just wanted to make sure you knew what this looked like, you know, to strangers._

“I’m sure,” Elijah said, an edge to his voice, “I’ll see you during our next chance encounter, Doctor Richardson,” he dismissed, his back turned to the vampire.

It shouldn’t have stung as it did, but alas, he couldn’t help the mental kick he gave himself for passing up what was possibly the only opportunity to _share_ something with an equal. Backtracking would only make things awkward, so he left, ignoring the uncomfortable itch in the back of his head.

* * *

“Well?” Julian had asked when Gavin seemed stuck between a breath and a gasp, his eyes far too knowing. The drudge left without an answer, believing that any embarrassment he felt now would be compounded if he opened his mouth further.

He’d forgotten about the rain, about the umbrella tucked under his arm, looking like a wet rat whilst he walked through the lobby, through the elevator and into his room. His hands shook, but not from the cold, not even as water dripped down his palms. To acknowledge the _why_ required more than a few misplaced bouts of courage.

So, ignoring the most basic parts of his common sense, he stripped to the most basic parts of himself, thinking it better if he just slept his frustrations away. It worked for maybe the first few hours, until dreams that felt like memories broke through his subconscious, populating his thoughts with promises of something sharp.

Promises that should’ve felt like threats.

With a groan, he pulled back the covers, disregarding his nakedness as he padded to the bathroom, burying his head beneath the hot stream. The muggy air choked his lungs, made it hard to breathe with the fear of drowning. He shut the water off before panic set it, jumping at the elevator’s distant ding.

Intrinsically, he knew it wasn’t Ace, but disappointment still clawed at his chest, cruel in nature.

Dinner was a light occasion, his stomach unable to hold more than a few bites of roasted potatoes and sips of the vegetable soup. At this point, he’d have to cancel the automatic room service if this is how he’d be treating his meals.

As he packed away his leftovers, the bottle of sherry caught his eye, the dark green glass catching the light of the room, melting ice-cubes collecting condensation on its body. Pre-opened, the cork gave easily under his hands, filling the air with surprising sweetness.

Gavin wasn’t a wine person, didn’t know one grape from the other, but he didn’t mind the taste as it tumbled down his throat, filling his belly better than the food had. Pouring a proper glass, he took it and the bottle with him to the couch, turning on the television to fill the silent void even as his eyes drifted to the sunset.

 _Ace would be home soon_ , he thought to himself as he downed his third glass, a light haze covering his mind. He wasn’t sure how he knew, and by the time he’d contemplated it, the vampire was walking through the elevator, proving that _soon_ was far too early.

“You were there again today,” Ace said without greeting, without preamble. He’d noted it immediately, stronger now, there was no mistaking it. Ignorance couldn’t be his drudge’s excuse, he’d known, and he’d still gone.

“I guess I was,” Gavin said, pouring another glass of wine, hiccupping as it sloshed into his mouth, drips of it landing on his shirt. “How was your day?”

Ace held his breath, feeling like he’d given up the perfect opportunity to forget Gavin for the night all because of some stupid need to make sure he was okay. “It could’ve ended better than this,” he grumbled, undoing his jacket, resigned to another night of fumigating the other vampire’s scent.

“Huh?” Gavin asked, his head lolling to the side, “you’re pissed again, you’re always pissed,” the drudge said, mostly to himself.

“How can I not be?” Ace asked, stepping forward before the scent of licorice hit him, Gavin’s inebriated state making itself apparent. “You’re drunk.”

“Oh, are we stating the obvious?” Gavin asked, giggling like it’d been a joke, “in that case, you’re a vampire.”

“Gavin—”

“That’s my name,” the drudge sing-songed, downing the rest of his wine. What glass was this, three, four?

Didn’t matter, he went to pour another, making a face when the vampire rushed to cover the top. “Stop,” Ace warned, taking away the wine and finished glass.

“Stop telling me what to do,” Gavin whined, his bottom lip jutting out with an exaggerated pout, “I’m not a child.”

“Maybe if you listened to me like one, you’d save yourself some trouble,” Ace said, sitting beside his drudge. This close he couldn’t even make out his own scent, buried as it was under Gavin’s drunkenness.

“Alright _daddy_ , what would you have me do?” Gavin asked with a dramatic roll of the eyes, “lock myself away in this castle until you decide to let me go?” he continued, his movements uncoordinated, lifting from his slump to bunch his fists in Ace’s vest, words slurred when he said, “oh daddy, please let me go, _please_ , please, I just want to explore the world, I promise I’ll be good.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Ace said, dead-pan, “I’m not keeping you from exploring, Gavin, I just wish you had more consideration for the changes we both have to go through.”

“What, do you mean my _smell_?” Gavin mocked, doing his best impression of a dog, “you know what you _smell_ like?” he asked, the words running together. He did give it a moment of thought before he considered, his brows coming together as yes, Ace did indeed have a scent that wasn’t his normal I-don’t-smell-like-anything smell. “You smell like asshole douchebag cologne—same shit my dad used to wear.”

Ace had to admit Gavin had a point, that though not as entirely unpleasant as that, it was overwhelming for someone whose nose was as astute as his.

“Was that from your little date?” Gavin teased, his fists still bunched in Ace’s vest, trembling as he got closer, their noses nearly brushing, “did you have to leave early?” he kept pushing, the cruel smirk splitting his lips dulled by the alcohol, “is that why you’re angry at me? ‘Cause you couldn’t get any?”

Ace didn’t answer, his small reserve of blood making itself useful in his cheeks. But Gavin wasn’t done, having found a button to press and doing so with glee. “What, did they smell me on you?” he’d whispered it, close enough that his sweet breath ghosted across Ace’s face.

“I’m sure you’d love if that were the case,” Ace said, pulling away from Gavin’s overbearing nature.

“Love it, _yes_ ,” Gavin said, leaning into the vampire’s chest before meeting his eyes again, “to know you’re just as fucked as I am when it comes to finding a partner is just”—he pressed his fingers to his lips and kissed—“incredible.”

Ace pushed him away, standing from the couch with both indignation and humiliation. He was more than capable, _fully_ capable if he hadn’t—

“Oh, daddy I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” Gavin whined, falling on his back like a damsel, “come bite me and make it better,” he drawled, spreading his arms wide and beckoning the vampire with the universal sign for ‘come here.’

It didn’t take much convincing after that, and even as his face burned with shame, Ace returned to his drudge’s side, his heart in his mouth when he realized Gavin wasn’t budging from his spot and he’d have to bite him just like this.

Decades of working with his hands had given him considerable upper body strength, but even Ace couldn’t keep himself suspended in the air whilst he fed. Blood made him weak, vulnerable. He didn’t realize how much until he was nuzzling Gavin’s neck, his drudge’s feverish body a perfect complement to his cold limbs. The faint hint of _other_ reminded him why he was angry in the first place. Ace growled, burying himself further into Gavin’s skin.

Gravity wasn’t his friend today, compelling more of him to slot itself against Gavin whilst he found the raised spot on his neck. He bit, blood thick and syrupy hitting his tongue, making it hard not to groan into the surrounding flesh.

Gavin seemed to echo his sentiment, a soft gasp making its way between them. In their closeness, he could feel how his drudge’s chest quivered, how his throat moved with every swallow, how his legs—which should have been heavier with drunkenness—parted to accommodate the weight above him.

Ace shivered into the fingers dancing across his back, against the ones pushing his head further into the crook of Gavin’s neck, forcing his fangs to expand to their full length, venom flowing like water through a broken dam.

It was dizzying how quickly they devolved into their most basic parts, into their cells, their atoms, until they were everything and nothing all at once. It made them desperate.

For what, Ace wasn’t sure.

They couldn’t have been joined more than half an hour—they may have been lost in their own disorientation but even time didn’t pass that fast. Ace was the first to separate, pushing up on his hands to get a better look at his drudge.

Gavin returned his stare, albeit with less precision, a half-smile spreading over his face, “Better?” he asked, surprising the vampire with his ability to speak. Ace nodded, because, _yes_ , he did feel better. “Good,” he said, lifting enough so that he could press his lips to Ace’s in a brief kiss.

Ace recoiled as if he’d been electrocuted, eyes going wide. “Gavin—”

“I should not have done that,” the drudge admitted, sobering a fraction, “I should…” he trailed off and like a magnet, found himself in Ace’s bubble, bursting it with the exactness of a pin.

“Gavin,” the vampire mumbled against his drudge’s lips, “you’re drunk,” he reminded, having enough of the man’s persistence, and pushing back, keeping him at arm’s length, “you can’t consent.”

“Don’t make me do this while I’m sober,” Gavin begged, feeling all sorts of high.

Ace hung his head, hating how a darker side of him wanted to oblige the drudge’s request. It’d be easier if he were truly a monster if scruples and morals made themselves scarce here like they did in the middle of a feeding frenzy. But he’d yet to take advantage of someone’s virtue, and no amount of persuasion would get him to start now.

“We can talk in the morning,” Ace said, letting Gavin go, “for now, just go to bed.”

“ _Ace_ ,” Gavin whimpered, sure he’d be embarrassed if he were anywhere near his right mind.

“Gavin,” Ace replied, tone final, “I’m serious.”

“Fine,” the drudge relented, crossing his arms, “at least help me to bed.”

 _It’s a trap_ , Ace’s instincts shouted, _don’t do it!_

“It’s not a trap,” Gavin grumbled as if reading the vampire’s mind.

Ace conceded, snaking his arms beneath Gavin’s, supporting his weight whilst he led him to the unmade bed, hoping it wouldn’t become a habit to tuck him in and wish him goodnight, to linger by the foot of his bed until he was certain he’d fallen asleep.

To want to be there when he woke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite Line [because it's just so fucking punchy and poignant in context]: “Everyone?” Julian asked, taking the liberty to follow it up with, “or you?”


	17. In those memories you like to call dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very-very small filler chapter (at least compared to the last chapter). Sometimes we need these bridges whilst the main course gets made. 
> 
> Also, I'm looking at my vault of pre-made chapters and realize I only have two left [oops] so if updates are a bit sparse, I do apologize. I front-loaded a lot of this and now I'm paying for it. I'm hoping the anxiety to update sparks creativity, but, you never know! LOL. At least the ending is done in my head. So, yeah. 
> 
> Thanks for reading regardless, and I love that you all still love the re-write. Definitely better than it's predecessor, by a few miles at least.

“Oh my god,” Gavin groaned, holding his pounding skull, “I feel like shit.” If he moved any more, he’d throw up, no questions asked.

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach,” a voice said, startling Gavin enough to forget he was trying to stay still.

“W-what?” Gavin asked, dumb, “when did you get back?” he continued, looking at the vampire when he came into his line of sight, shielding his eyes from the sun streaming behind him.

Ace narrowed his gaze, adjusting the sleeves of his blazer before he replied, “Last night.” He paused, looking closer at the man still wrapped up in his bedsheets, face red but not rosy, eyes strained but not dazed, “Or were you too drunk to remember?”

“Too drunk,” Gavin agreed, dropping his head against the pillow, “definitely too drunk.” His stomach revolted again, forcing his deadened feet out of bed, rushing him to the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet, upchucking bile, dry heaving when he had nothing left to give.

The unexpected coolness at his neck made him jump, but he couldn’t get far, a steady hand keeping him in place. It moved from his neck to his forehead, wiping away the worst of his sweat. Gavin shivered under the attention, pressing into the soft swipes like a touch-starved cat.

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” Gavin managed to say through his hyperventilating, the cramp in his stomach twisting when another bout of nausea washed over him.

Ace sighed, replacing the rag with his fingers. “I don’t mind taking care of you,” he said despite the embarrassment that could follow such a statement, smoothing the flyaway hairs against Gavin’s scalp, “ _through sickness and in health, through better or worse, the coupling of two species, under the law, until death do them part_ ,” he continued, quoting their certificates.

“You’re making it sound more like the marriage it isn’t,” Gavin said, flushing his emesis down the toilet, lingering by the bowl in case his traitorous body decided to torture him with another round, “than the servitude it is.” By this point, his throat had gone raw and scratchy, painful to even breathe through.

Ace looked at him, handing him a clean rag for his mouth. “I may have been too harsh these last few nights,” he said, admitting his own faults, “you haven’t been feeling well. I’m not quite sure what’s changed, and I’ve meant to ask but…” Ace sighed, knowing he didn’t have to spell out the why, at least not for his ire. “I’ll always be willing to listen when you’re ready.”

Gavin figured that would be the end of it, but Ace remained seated by him, subjecting himself to keeping his drudge company.

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” Gavin asked, his bottom lip quivering, remorse wracking the rest of his addled mind, adding to the pot of emotional overload.

“One of us has to be,” Ace said, sincere, “you spend too much time in self-deprecation, and speaking from experience, it does you no good. If we’re nice to each other, maybe we can learn to be nice to ourselves.”

Gavin had run out of clever quips for a while, instead, he shrugged, last night’s drunkenness turning into today’s fatigue. He stood with some difficulty, swaying backwards, his legs giving in. Ace was there in an instant, holding him by the waist, his body firm and warm.

“Did you feed last night?” Gavin asked taking a moment to note the pounding in his pulse sites was nonexistent.

“I did,” Ace said, tensing against the drudge, “I’m sorry you don’t remember.”

“It’s fine, better than the alternative,” Gavin shrugged, “I probably did something stupid—always do when I’m drunk.” It was half the reason he didn’t drink anymore.

Ace should’ve won an award for the way he kept his features calm and collected, betraying nothing except the slight flicker of his eyes to Gavin’s lips, too quick to be noticed by anyone but him. He remained silent whilst helping Gavin with the toothbrush and toothpaste, propping him up. Their eyes met in the glass, an untapped spark flowing between them. It was the same one that’d kept him from feeding the other night, far stronger now considering what’d transpired.

What only he remembered.

Gavin washed the bile out of his mouth, making a face when the acid touched his tongue. The toothpaste’s minty flavour was cover enough, though the aftertaste lingered in the back of his throat.

“I’ll finish packing,” Ace said, taking a step back, his drudge’s warmth clinging to him until it died a swift death mid-air.

“Are we done here already?” Gavin asked, counting the days in his head.

“The last day is more for entertainment, but I think I’ve had my fill for now,” Ace said, not admitting the true reason, lest he spark some remembrance and trudge up memories best kept out of reach.

“I hope it wasn’t because of something I did?” Gavin asked, just to cover his bases. Ace was reserved in his countenance, more so than usual, and the slight tint of his cheeks seemed to be pronounced as if mentioning last night was causing him to flush with embarrassment.

“No, not at all, it was purely on my end,” the vampire reassured, turning on his heel, “are you hungry? Breakfast should be here already—”

“Ace,” Gavin stopped him, his tone serious, “what happened last night?” The vampire had fed, that much was obvious, and judging by the soreness in his neck and that bright red welt surrounding the scar, he knew exactly where. They only ever use his neck when there’s an accident, as Julian so cleverly pointed out, so what precipitated such a joining? And why was Ace so reluctant to divulge the details?

“Nothing of import,” the vampire lied, bold-faced, whilst taking two steps forward _away_ from his drudge.

“Ace don’t lie to me,” Gavin implored, panic settling in his stomach, “what happened?” he asked again, eyes burning holes in the back of the vampire’s skull.

Ace’s shoulders slumped, defeat evident in his posture before it was in his tone. “Would you at least sit down first?” he asked, following his own advice, and taking a seat at the breakfast table, Gavin’s plate laid out for him if he wanted it.

The drudge, though hesitant, took his seat, pushing aside his food in favour of paying attention. If Ace were this tight-lipped it couldn’t have been anything good.

“Tell me what you last remember, and I’ll go from there,” the vampire promised, meeting Gavin’s eyes with some difficulty.

“I ate dinner, had a few glasses of wine, I guess you came home because I wasn’t just talking to myself,” Gavin said, wading through the fog, “that’s it.”

“You know I fed,” Ace said, matter-of-fact, “do you remember what happened after?”

“After you fed?” Gavin asked for clarification. Ace nodded, prompting his response, “I don’t know, but the way you’re running around it makes it seem like we kissed or something.”

Ace didn’t say anything, simply let his drudge’s statement sink in, let lucidity make itself known in the silence, in his affirming stare. Gavin returned his gaze with amused incredulity because acknowledging the truth was that far out of the realm of sober possibility.

“We did not kiss,” Gavin said, shaking his head, “there’s no way—I think I would remember that.” He even managed a chuckle, hearing how it died when Ace’s stare didn’t break into his own amused grin, the joke far too serious now. “We didn’t—”

“Our lips met, I think that qualifies on some level,” the vampire grumbled, Gavin’s rejection of the truth grating on his nerves.

“We kissed?” Gavin gasped, his face twisting into an angry set of lines, frustration making its way to his tone. “And you were just gonna keep that from me?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve kept things from each other,” Ace murmured, low and bruised.

“ _This_ is different, I was drunk,” Gavin said, running a hand through his hair, “what else did you do to me?” Apart from the welt on his neck, he seemed to be intact—no other _sore points_ to be accounted for.

“ _I_ didn’t do anything _you_ didn’t tell me to do,” Ace reminded, understanding Gavin’s vexation but not supporting his insinuations.

“Oh, that’s fucking rich,” Gavin said, his smirk cutting, “what, did I also beg you to bite me, what else, huh? Can’t get any so I’m resorting to the lowest common convenience?”

Ace rolled his eyes—glad he’d had enough sense to put some distance between them whilst they spoke. “You weren’t kind with your assessment of our situation, as I recall, you took great glee in reminding us we’re both damned where matters of companionship are concerned.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Gavin grumbled, throwing the nearest object: a fork.

The vampire caught it, disregarding his newfound instinct to retaliate. “Gavin, I’m willing to let this go,” he said, eyes intense enough to postpone most of his drudge’s irritation, “it was a mistake, let’s treat it as such.”

“Mistake, mistake, everything is a fucking mistake with you!” Gavin exclaimed, dropping his head in his hands.

“What else could it possibly be?” Ace asked, irritation fanning the edges of his tone, “it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

Gavin looked at him through his fingers, his grin ironic, “Don’t flatter yourself,” he murmured, cheeks far too warm for his liking, “you wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“Good,” Ace said, sitting straighter, “wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” he added, using Gavin’s own words against him.

Gavin shook his head, ignoring how the statement cut enough to draw a drop of blood. He didn’t need Ace to consider their relationship in a different light. They were nothing but drudge and vampire, two individuals tied together by the most basic evolutionary drive—food.

Anything else was a side-effect of proximity. Gavin made it a point to make distance the remedy.

* * *

Returning home felt foreign like he’d swapped bodies with an identical twin and was told to pretend. Most of his floor space was covered by his purchases, reminding him—far too late—he still had the vampire’s black card in his wallet.

Gavin sighed, promising himself to return it first thing tomorrow morning. He hoped it would be the last time he’d be acquainted with it, hating how easy it was to slot the metal chip into a card reader, watch the non-existent limit turn his balance to zero. It was a convenience that’d been gifted to him as a practicality, a “just in case” as Ace had put it. He didn’t like its implication any more than his willingness to admit that it _had_ been useful, whether as a safety net or catch-all. Ace may not think to ask for recompense—ulterior or otherwise—but it left Gavin feeling indebted like he owed the vampire those unspoken favours.

Maybe that’s why he’d kissed him, cognitive dissonance had rooted itself into his subconscious and forced his baser self to comply to rules neither he nor the vampire were aware of.

Gavin chuckled, a dry and sarcastic thing. Great, it was good to know he was a whore when inebriated. The only possible silver lining in this whole situation was Ace’s willingness to let it go, to drop it, pretend its existence was imaginary. Which, on some level, did _sting_. Notwithstanding the situation, rejection still _hurt_ goddammit.

He rubbed his neck, certain he imagined the phantom pressure at its base, the hard breathing in his ear, the soft brush of hair on his chin. It filled him with renewed embarrassment, flooding his system like a toxin, forcing his cheeks to redden and his heartbeat to quicken.

Maybe it was for the best that he didn’t remember the details, maybe he’d been spared the worst of his humiliation by the miracle of alcohol. Though, the smallest sliver of regret did make its way to the surface of his thoughts. It had his fingers running across his bottom lip, skin tingling at the contact. An errant need to know how it’d felt, how he’d done it, if it’d been messy, or soft, or sweet, coursed through his veins, taking his breath with it.

Gavin shuddered, unsure if disgust was responsible for the sudden quiver in his abdomen, for the warmth that spread to his limbs, goosebumps rising in its wake.

* * *

“Take it,” Gavin insisted, shoving the card into Ace’s hands as soon as he’d opened the door, unable—or unwilling—to meet his eyes as he did so, pushing himself into the mansion before he changed his mind. He stopped short of running into the feeding room when he saw what the vampire wore. Ace was still in his nightclothes, and though his silk pyjamas were worth more than a healthy down payment, it was a first for him to be so unkempt without a reason. “Did I…did I wake you?” Gavin asked, awkwardness pumping blood to his cheeks.

“Vampires don’t really sleep, Gavin,” Ace reminded, looking at his credit card, “you didn’t have to bring this back yet,” he said, putting the card on a nearby table. There was a pause where they each stood in the foyer, hands idling at their sides. “You’re here early,” Ace remarked, the nearby clock showing it was just past 4 AM.

“The earlier I come, the earlier I can leave,” Gavin replied with a shrug, hoping the lie wasn’t as obvious to the vampire as it was to him. It’d be the death of him to admit he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even manage breakfast because a needling voice chirped in his subconscious like an alarm.

He got it—Ace needed to feed.

Ace nodded noncommittally, his curls bouncing with the action. They youthened his face, the points of his cheeks not as sharp, his gaze not as critical, even as it wound its way to where Gavin stood. “After you,” he said, extending a hand towards the hallway.

The drudge took the lead, sitting in his usual spot, Ace following suit, albeit with more grace when he sat instead of flopped into his seat. The silky blackness of his pyjamas caught the low light of the nearby lamp, shimmering—a living ink. _It was probably soft_ , Gavin thought, _and smooth_ , if his previous experience with Ace’s expensive clothes were anything to go by.

“Any future business trips I should be aware of?” Gavin asked, removing his jacket before offering his arm to the vampire, unable to calm the spike of adrenaline that came with each feed—no matter how often they did this.

“Most won’t be weeklong outings,” Ace began, distracted by the push of his fangs, “if anything, you might not notice my absence between our feeds.” It grew harder to talk, saliva and venom mixing like honey in his mouth.

“Oh, trust me, I’ll notice,” Gavin grumbled, not entirely keen on his growing senses, “can’t go a day without a little voice yelling ‘feed him, feed him.’” 

Ace paused mid-bite, his lips quirking upwards as if he found the knowledge amusing. “I suppose I’ll never go hungry,” he said, making himself chuckle.

“It’s not funny,” Gavin returned, betrayed by his grin.

“No, it’s not,” Ace said, sobering up enough to apologize, “I’m sorry. It seems the more we do this, the more in tune we get.” At least he sounded genuine.

“Chloe said this would happen, and like with everything else, it’s entirely one-sided,” Gavin said, on the verge of crossing his arms before he remembered the whole reason he was here, “eat, you’re wasting precious moonlight.”

Ace wasn’t in the business of arguing a point so early in the morning, so, he took Gavin’s arm into his cold fingers, hearing more than feeling the spike in his heart rate. He brought himself closer to his wrist, lowering his head until his lips barely brushed the reddened skin. His tongue darted out on its own accord, teasing Gavin’s pulse, tasting, and scenting the amalgam of blood and venom growing in potency with each feed. He could only imagine how much stronger it’d be on his neck, the large vessel dripping with their intermingled perfume.

Ace shivered into the bite, closing his eyes to keep them from wandering. It seemed impossible, but Gavin tasted better every time, a wine allowed to age. He was sure his drudge wouldn’t appreciate the comparison, enough trouble there was convincing him he was more than his food.

The soft snores coming from just above his head compelled the vampire’s eyes open, to follow the sound to the source. Gavin’s form had slumped further into the cushions, his neck at an odd angle, a consequence of his sleeping state.

Ace watched him with open curiosity, wondering why now, in this seemingly normal setting, sleep found his drudge so swiftly. Yet, when he’d emptied his venom glands into the crook of his neck two nights ago, Gavin had had enough strength to pull them into a kiss.

The vampire grumbled, chastising his thoughts for betraying his vows of ignorance. To let it die also meant to let it _settle_ , but the reminder churned in his mind like turbulent flow, agitated each time he chanced a glance at the past.

As first kisses went it was admittedly lacking. He’d seen his parents share a heated kiss or two in his youth—possibly on accident now that he thought about it—and North wasn’t exactly shy about showing her affections for Chloe.

It wasn’t what he’d expected out of his first time, he’d romanticized it once when he was younger, imagining the moment like an unknown colour. He’d wanted it to take his breath away, to share it with someone he’d known well, or well _enough_. Not a drunken press of the lips—technically _two_ —ruined by the fact that their coupling just wasn’t feasible. Apart from tolerating each other at best, and Gavin hating his entire existence at worst, it would be an incompatible mess.

Torn between regret and disappointment, Ace sighed through his nose, wondering—not for the first time—what would’ve happened if he’d just accepted Elijah’s invitation. That didn’t settle well with him either, though. He’d hate for it to have been nothing more than a one-time thing.

He lifted from Gavin’s wrist after a few more deliberate swallows, taking enough to be overfull, for his drudge’s sake than his own. Ace waited to see if Gavin would wake or required some encouragement, his hand coming up to jostle him just as the man decided to make matters difficult and curl into a ball, falling deeper into sleep.

Ace stood, at odds with himself even as he let Gavin rest, using this undisclosed time to shower and dress in his weekend wear—a two-piece suit, how modern—and cook breakfast, just in case Gavin woke up before noon.

To no one’s surprise, Gavin was still asleep when Ace returned to the common room, his mouth half-open, drool collecting on one of the throw pillows. The vampire made a face, though disgusted wasn’t exactly what he’d use to describe it, and fetched a book from the smaller collection, settling by the fireplace.

It was as companionable a silence as they’d get in each other’s company. Ace was getting used to sharing the space with another being, as accidental as most occurrences were, he didn’t mind the plus one in his home. It was a quirk, he was certain, of their vampire/drudge evolution—it would do neither of them good to be repulsed by the other. They had to spend the rest of their lives together, it’d be nice to do so amicably.

At least when Gavin slept, they could each breathe easy.

* * *

“You need to stop letting me fall asleep,” Gavin grumbled through a mouthful of waffles, “I have stuff to do, you know.” A lie, but Ace didn’t need to know that.

The vampire cocked his head, deciding not to argue, but refuting nonetheless with, “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you.” It was said with enough playfulness that Gavin didn’t take him seriously, narrowing his eyes instead, double-dipping into his late breakfast. “I’ll make sure to set _my_ alarm for next time,” he amended, half-serious.

The drudge ignored the vampire’s tease, licking his fork clean and nearly doing the same to his plate. “Thank you for the food,” Gavin said, pushing his dish towards the vampire, wondering if he’d wash it for him.

Ace took it as a reflex, borne from years of Chloe doing the same to him. _If you’re not willing to do it yourself_ , she’d chastise when he complained, _then you shouldn’t expect others to do it for you_.

“Tomorrow’s October already,” Gavin mused, his fingers tapping on the phone’s screen, “nearly five months we’ve been doing this, less if you don’t count our hiatus.”

“Tired yet?” Ace asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the truth.

“Extremely,” Gavin joked, feigning a yawn, which prompted a real one to follow through, “don’t start crying on me, I was only kidding.”

“I don’t know what’s given you the impression that I’m easily offended,” Ace said, finding it more humorous than irritating, “but I’d love to rectify your prejudice.”

“Love to, you say?” Gavin asked, resting his chin on his hands, “what else do you love to do, apart from sucking me dry and boring math things?”

“I do not _suck you dry_ ,” Ace said, unable to help the incredulity in his tone, “often I leave you with excess.”

“And I’m sure every engorged cell in my body appreciates your consideration,” Gavin drawled, fluttering his lashes at the vamp in what he hoped would be an ironically flirtatious manner.

Ace sighed, rubbing the centre of his forehead, wishing to calm the headache threatening to break the surface tension of his mind. “If you want me to bite you again, I can,” he managed to wrangle out of his stubborn mouth, hating how the mere mention of another feed had his fangs stinging in his gums.

“It’s not really a matter of want, is it?” Gavin asked, bordering on rhetorical, “you need to feed, and I need you to bi— _use your teeth_ to do it, so. We have no say in what we want, what our bodies need.”

“Is that a yes or a no, Gavin?”

The drudge—though reluctant—extended his left arm, the purple indent on his wrist always in stark contrast to his skin. “It’s a ‘yes, but don’t knock me out again,’” he answered, relaxing his fist.

Ace hesitated, unsure if he could promise such a thing. “I’ll try,” he said, absolving himself from blame if he failed.

“Seems more appropriate we do this in the kitchen, doesn’t it?” Gavin mumbled, his skin tingling where Ace touched him, his fingers nearly long enough to wrap around his forearm once.

“You’re more than your blood, Gavin,” Ace huffed, his breath ghosting over his previous bitemark, “you prove that every time you speak.”

“Hey, mean,” Gavin pouted, tugging his arm just enough to be a threat. Ace tightened his grip before letting go, proving he was more than his venom. “I’m kidding,” he said, his pulse bursting with anticipation, “you can’t leave me hanging here.” He most definitely _did not_ whine that.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ace said, hating how his sarcasm had given way to sincerity, an evolution—he hoped—wouldn’t be as obvious to his drudge as it was to him.

“How could you dream, you don’t even sleep,” Gavin teased, the smirk spreading over his face faltering when Ace bit him with more of a snap than a pierce, to shut him up he was sure. “Don’t get angry with me, those were your words,” Gavin reminded, leaning on his free hand as he watched Ace feed again through hooded eyes.

It was easier now to withstand the momentary discomfort that came with each bite, whether it meant he was getting used to it, or that his skin was getting tougher was yet to be decided. Nevertheless, it gave him time to wade through the feel-good hormones, the addicting ones he’d been warned about. Leo’s unflattering comments about them had Gavin shivering in his seat, senses hyper-aware of each ounce of venom flowing through his bloodstream.

He wanted to disavow such claims, but the hedonistic rock sitting between his shoulder blades forced him further into compliance, making it difficult to understand why something that felt so good could ever possibly be _that_ bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of big words in this one, huh.


	18. Wonders of Technology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More FILLER. moRE cHARACTER develOpment!
> 
> BTW, this chapter picks up where the last one left off. Originally they were one, but I need to stop with these mega-chapters. Even for me, they're a lot.

Withdrawals, that’s why.

Gavin cursed, his body vibrating under the spray of the temperamental shower, his mouth still tasting of acid and his upchucked breakfast. He sat in the tub, a wet rag in severe need of mending.

Everything ached, to the point where he feared he may have pulled something in his dry heaving. And of course, he didn’t have the vampire to help him through the worst of it. He shivered again, the bottom of his stomach reaching his toes, the cramp severe enough to wind him.

Was this divine punishment? A slap on the wrist for being greedy?

He couldn’t explain it any other way, why his body would revolt against what it’d wanted—even his cells agreed this was fucked up.

The worst of his malaise passed with another shudder, Earth and all his senses coming to him in pieces. He could tell as soon as he turned off the water that it’d be an early night, his body defying all logical odds by growing warmer in the presence of evaporation. Sighing, he dried himself off and slipped into his boxers, opening a window, letting in the Fall draft. 

Modesty was for losers anyway.

Gavin laid on his back, looking at the popcorn ceiling as he often did when he couldn’t sleep. In a week he’d turn twenty-three and mostly likely _remain_ twenty-three for the rest of his natural drudge life. It was still hard to wrap his head around infinity, how different everything would be fifty years from now, let alone a thousand. The unfathomability of it had his thoughts racing, the empty void of time and space too vast, too dark.

He turned to face the window, watching the last of the sun’s rays descend over the rooftops, an orange blanket giving way to the night’s dress. Eventually, he too found solace in the night, the hangnail of a moon providing enough light to be the guide for his sleep. 

* * *

There was nothing quite like getting woken up to the sound of buzzing inches from your ear. Gavin learned it from the moment he was old enough to own an alarm clock, learned it again today when his phone rocked its square body across his nightstand and promptly tossed itself off the edge.

He groaned, searching blindly for the device, opening a bleary eye to see what could possibly be so important that’d he’d set an alarm for it.

_Group Therapy at 0900_

“Wha—” Gavin said out loud, confused. Did he…had he set the date for every month?

Looking forward in his calendar proved that, yes, he had indeed put a repeating reminder for each month ad infinitum. It was early enough to ignore it—pretend he hadn’t seen it, but he’d already broken his phone, might as well commit.

With a sigh, he peeled himself out of bed, promising he’d change the sheets when he returned. He showered and skipped breakfast, hoping that by the time he’d reached the auditorium he’d developed something resembling an appetite.

The vampire did cross his mind, muscle memory compelling his arms to twist the steering wheel _away_ from Detroit rather than towards it. Just then, as he pulled up towards the rec centre, it dawned on him that—despite everything—he still didn’t have Ace’s number.

Chloe could be their liaison for only so long.

Gavin shook his head, sending her a quick text, not waiting for her reply before he exited the car and walked into the building.

Kara spotted him immediately, her eyes widening then creasing with a beautiful smile. She met him halfway, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder as greeting. “Gavin, I’m so glad you’ve returned.”

Gavin nodded, blushing under her undivided attention. “I’m surprised you still remember me,” he said, rubbing his neck. There were only a few people he recognized in the large group circle. Leo—the bastard who’d made the strongest impression—slumped in his chair, dead asleep despite the blended chatter. Tina sat on the opposite end, taking small bites of her muffin.

“I try to recall all my participants,” Kara said, guiding them towards the circle, “it makes people feel welcomed when they’re remembered.”

Gavin nodded, unable to argue with that. She set him free, letting him go to the breakfast bar and pick out some sweet treats. He took a few, testing the waters of his stomach’s limits, glad when it didn’t protest his nibbles.

“I’m glad we didn’t scare you off,” Tina commented, an amused glint in her brown eyes. She’d spotted him across the room, her empty breakfast plate excuse enough to meet him by the table. 

“You almost did,” Gavin joked, sipping his orange juice.

“Har, har,” Tina mocked, “just be grateful your secret admirer had a visit from his blood angel,” she said, motioning towards Leo. Gavin looked at him again, saw the peaceful expression in every line of the drudge’s face, counted his slow and even breaths. “I’m sure his vampire did it on purpose, maybe even at Kara’s request,” Tina continued unprompted.

“Did what?” Gavin asked, contemplating Leo’s sleeping form. He looked about ready to slip out of the chair, his straight legs the only thing anchoring him to it.

Tina narrowed her eyes, wondering if Gavin was purposefully dense or he just didn’t know. “Pumped him full of venom,” she elucidated, meeting the drudge’s perplexed stare. “You remember how he acted in last month’s meeting. I wouldn’t be surprised if she talked to Leo’s vampire about it.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Gavin grumbled, torn between his empathy towards another sensitive drudge and his relief at the promise of a hassle-free session.

“He’ll be fine, if anything he’s happier now than he would be otherwise,” Tina said, shaking her head, “he’s the only drudge I know who actually likes crashing from a venom overdose.”

Gavin stopped chewing on his muffin, his appetite whisked away by his treacherous mind reminded him how well he slept after each feeding session. Despite himself, and his reprimands, it was the best few hours of his life, settling as he did in Ace’s couch with nothing but an empty mind and heavy limbs.

Their conversation stopped after that—Gavin’s curiosity snuffed by his newfound knowledge. Kara began their session without preamble, introducing herself and allowing the circle to do the same. There were some newer drudges in their group, but none as young as Gavin.

He'd figured that’d be the norm for a while, might as well get used to it.

* * *

Leo was still fast asleep when the session ended, leaving him alone in the circle as others trickled out. Gavin hesitated, watching Kara pack away the remnants of breakfast and return the chairs to the wall. He offered a helping hand, and despite her reassurances that she’d be fine, took it upon himself to finish gathering the chairs whilst she swept the floor.

“Is he just gonna stay here?” Gavin asked after carrying the plastic containers to Kara’s car and returning to the auditorium for a final look at the place.

“I’ve already called his vampire, it might take him a few more minutes—sunlight and all,” she said, her smile patient but thin.

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” Gavin said, minding his manners.

Kara’s reluctance to answer was palpable, she shuffled where she stood, choosing her words carefully. “Leo was bitten by another vampire,” she began in a whisper, “we’re still unsure if it’d been consensual or an assault, and he won’t say.”

“That can happen?” Gavin asked, respecting the gravity of the situation by whispering as she had, “I thought claimed drudges couldn’t get bitten by other vampires, something about having a deterrent in our blood.”

“With enough determination, Gavin, anything is possible,” Kara said, her smile faltering, “he won’t talk to us, and the law doesn’t say he can’t be bitten by others.”

“Still doesn’t explain why he’s passed out,” Gavin reminded, something in him wanting to assume the worst out of his fellow drudge.

“It could be many things, but I’m guessing his vampire was offended by the interloping venom and got a bit carried away with his feeds,” Kara said, her brows furrowing, “there’s nothing more infuriating to a vampire than the smell of another vampire on their drudge.”

“You can say that again,” Gavin said, narrowing his eyes at the slumbering figure. If his theory was correct, it was a pretty fucked up thing to do. He didn’t want to believe anyone would put themselves in danger just to get their vampire to bite them a little harder, to spend more time in the crook of their neck, or the bend for their wrist, to let more venom flow through their system and into that endless void that demanded more.

Gavin shuddered, his stomach flipping, his pulse sites leaping at attention, growing hot and itchy.

“You don’t have to stay, Gavin,” Kara said, noticing the drudge’s sudden discomfort, “I’ll be here until Allen arrives.” She paused, her eyes drawing dots between the two men, quiet understanding a familiar companion. “If you’d like, I can send you a message, let you know if he’s made it out okay.”

Gavin looked unsure but was too polite to refuse. His empathy for broken things may have gotten the better of him with this one.

Neither of them had to wait long after that, when a man dressed in a casual black dress shirt and matching jeans walked into the auditorium, his eyes zoning into the body in the chair. Gavin watched what he presumed to be Allen heave his misbehaving drudge into his arms, a familiar expression of fond exasperation making his eyebrows tense and his eyes narrow. Allen shot Kara and Gavin a goodbye nod, careful with Leo’s head as he maneuvered him through the double doors.

“This is why we talk to our vampires,” Kara sighed, putting away the last chair. She may have said goodbye at some point, but Gavin was already out of the room and into his car, his movements automatic whilst he drove back to the estate, nearly calling it his home in his haste to reach it.

* * *

“You should really give me your phone number,” Gavin said, wiggling his own as an example.

No sooner had Ace opened the door that he was bombarded by Gavin’s insistence on skipping a simple greeting, if it wasn’t so much a part of his character, he might’ve called him out on it. “Hello to you too, Gavin,” Ace said, stepping aside so his drudge could enter.

“Sometimes I have stuff to do, you know, and it’s not fair to Chloe that I have to bother her when I need to get to you,” Gavin rushed, standing lost in the centre of the foyer.

“What, you haven’t developed the ability to let me know telepathically?” Ace teased, closing the front door.

“I hope you’re joking,” Gavin mumbled, his fingers dancing on the touchscreen, swiping through two different windows. He paused, meeting Ace’s stare, a question poised at the edge of his tongue. “You do have a phone, right?”

“I do,” Ace agreed, procuring the device from his pocket.

“Well,” Gavin said, his tone bordering on confused, “aren’t you gonna give it to me?”

“You haven’t really asked for it,” Ace reminded, a playful glint bouncing in his eyes.

Gavin huffed, crossing his arms, “You’re kidding?” He was being ridiculous, he shouldn’t have to ask, he was his drudge, goddammit.

“It’d be the polite thing to do, Gavin,” the vampire said, sounding more like he was teaching a lesson than giving a response.

There were a few rebuttals jumping off Gavin’s tongue, but as it stood, he didn’t have the wherewithal to follow through with them. So, with a clenched jaw and tightened fist, he asked, “Could I please have your number, Mr. Vampire?”

“Absolutely,” Ace said, stepping closer so they could exchange phones. Compared to his, Gavin’s had a large crack running down the centre, spiralling out into smaller cracks at the point of impact. It was distracting enough to make him lose his train of thought, his mouth faster than his common sense when he said, “I could fix this for you if you want.”

“It works fine,” Gavin murmured, his cheeks bright pink. It’d been a brand-new phone too, a little gift he’d gotten himself during their weeklong outing. But clumsy was his middle name, even if his mom refused to change his birth certificate.

“Working fine and being presentable are two very different things,” Ace said, feeling the device rumble with a notification. It was his phone number, ‘pompous asshole’ the header to the text message Gavin had sent himself. “Be that as it may,” Ace continued, swapping phones, “you’re only annoyed because I have a point.”

“You have _four_ , which you should be using to get whatever it is we do here over with so I can go back home and eat,” Gavin retorted, his mouth quirked in a pout.

“Haste makes waste, Gavin,” Ace reminded, looking like he’d pat Gavin’s hair if he didn’t fear losing a hand over it.

“Oh yeah?” the drudge began, turning on his heel his tone betraying nothing of his plan. “Try not to hasten then,” he continued, bursting into a sprint towards one of the open-ended hallways. It was enough of a surprise that Ace didn’t immediately react, his instincts lagging, giving Gavin a much-needed advantage. 

“What are you doing?” Ace called, feeling dissociated from himself, his limbs doing the automatic heavy lifting.

“Proving a point!” Gavin called back, skidding on an area rug with his quick turn. The mansion was much bigger on the inside, rooms he’d yet to see making themselves perfect little hiding places.

“What point?” Ace growled, losing sight of his drudge. Primordial panic surfaced to the edge of his psyche, an older, darker part of him taking over as he shoved through the doors, following his drudge’s scent to what he hoped would be his location. But Gavin was _everywhere_ , eluding him in his search.

“If haste makes waste, then why are you chasing me?” Gavin asked from above, leaning over the ledge, his red cheeks giving way to his smirk.

Ace couldn’t pause to answer, stalking his drudge, getting closer without spooking him. “You can stop now,” he said, hoping it didn’t sound too much like a command.

“I’m sure you’d love it if I did,” Gavin said, backing away, ignoring his own panic when Ace’s eyes flashed red. Chloe wasn’t kidding, this _was_ exciting.

“Gavin, stop—” but his drudge was already halfway down the other side of the stairs, forcing him to backpedal just to gain a few seconds on him. He was almost at tackling distance, his heart in his throat, whilst Gavin’s beat in his ears, the steady thrum of his blood incentivizing his legs to work harder, to move quicker.

Almost there if he’d just—

At the sound of the splash, he froze—his eyes following the sounds better than his ears did. Gavin looked just as surprised with the sudden lack of ground but rolled with it, swimming to the sunny edge of the indoor-outdoor pool.

“Are you done now?” Ace asked, minding the shadows as he approached his drudge. Gavin’s answering smirk wasn’t encouraging in the slightest, doing his best to continue running despite the ground’s evolution.

“Nah, I think we’ve just gotten started,” Gavin replied, teasing the delineation between light and dark, feeling his adrenaline spike with each aborted attempt of Ace’s chase. “Seems you’re in a bit of bind there, Ace,” Gavin mocked, his smile full of teeth, “you better hurry, your food’s getting all wet!” That tease may have been his last, because, in the next breath, Ace dove in, disappearing beneath the water.

Gavin looked around, unable to distinguish any shapes in the refractions. He didn’t have to wait long, however, as Ace broke through the surface like a shark, capturing Gavin in his arms, trapping him against his chest. Gavin would’ve liked to say he was more dignified than to have yelped when it happened, but he couldn’t deny the sound that came out of him was disturbingly shrill.

“You are a _very_ irritating man, Gavin,” Ace said, just on the right end of breathless. He was pulling both their weights through the water, his suit and shoes weighing him down. “This was stupid—beyond idiotic.”

Pressed this close, Gavin could see the micro-expressions on the vampire’s face, how his lips turned downward with each word, his brows twitching between concerned and vexed, eyes bright red and shiny from both wading through the chlorinated water and his vampiric instincts.

“I’m sure this is tame compared to all the other things I’ve done,” Gavin said through a hard breath, his eyes flitting to Ace’s mouth, memories that felt imagined crossing his mind.

“You need to be tamed, alright,” Ace grumbled, and Gavin was sure—he was _certain_ —he hadn’t meant for it to shake through them like it did, but it had, and Gavin’s face grew hot under the scrutiny. “What did I say about running away from vampires, _me_ specifically?”

“Don’t do it,” Gavin replied, cowering under the reprimand. They were nearing the pool’s stairs now, the water level dropping, leaving them dripping, their clothes hanging to them like a second skin.

“Don’t do it,” Ace repeated, agreeing as well as reminding, “unless you want to be chased.” The vampire said the last part facing forward, missing how Gavin bit his lip with indecision.

“Sometimes”—Gavin hesitated, his skin growing prickly where it met Ace’s in the bridal carry, he still refused to put him down despite having been clear of the pool for many feet now—“sometimes we like to be chased.”

He’d said it so softly, Ace was sure he misheard him. His arms shifted around Gavin, thankful he wasn’t squirming, or it’d bring light to a potentially awkward situation. “Why would anyone _like_ to be chased?” Ace asked, unable to shake his predatorial mindset.

“I said _sometimes_ ,” Gavin amended, his blush spreading down his neck, “you’ve never played tag before?”

Ace shook his head, familiar with the game in its most basic form.

“Well, it’s like tag,” Gavin said, sounding surer of that than anything else, “I’m it, you’re it, I’m it, you’re it, back and forth, neither the victor nor the loser, simply switching perspectives depending on whose turn it is.”

The vampire nodded, still puzzled. “You wanted me to chase you?”

“No, I wanted you to bite me,” Gavin snapped, feeling how Ace’s fingers flexed where they held him, his steps faltering. “I wanted _someone_ to bite me, to get rid of all this excess blood I carry around each day.” Gavin sighed, playing with the wet hem of his shirt before he continued, “But instead, you have to prove your point, which forces me to prove mine—hence, our game of tag.”

“Why would you want someone else to bite you?” Ace asked, a warning threatening to bubble over.

“Of course, that’s what you latch onto,” Gavin said to himself, “did it ever cross your mind that maybe you don’t bite me enough?”

Ace narrowed his eyes, hearing the little devil on his shoulder tell him to drop Gavin where they stood. “I can only take so much, Gavin,” he admitted, circling back to the front of the house, ascending the grand staircase. If Gavin weighed anything to him, he didn’t show it.

“You bit me twice yesterday.”

“At your behest.”

“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?”

Ace did drop him then, but only because they’d reached the threshold of his room. He still held onto him, unable to shake the feeling he’d run away again if he didn’t keep physical tabs on him. “Does one not enjoy dessert despite being full?”

“Dessert is a treat,” Gavin clarified, patting down Ace’s wet tie, “am I a treat?”

“A delight to the senses, truly,” Ace replied drily, sarcasm dripping off his tongue like a leaky faucet.

“I know you want me to think you’re joking, but there’s that little part of you that actually agrees with what you’re saying,” Gavin said, his grin too self-serving, too wide.

“Hm, I wonder what gave you that idea,” Ace said, countering Gavin’s admittedly logical rebuttal.

“Just some supernatural intuition,” Gavin teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I wish your _intuition_ would’ve told you to stop running before you jumped into the pool,” Ace said, retrieving his phone from his pocket, “now they’re both destroyed,” he said, tapping on the dead screen, water dripping from its singular gap.

Gavin’s smirk died with the reminder, fishing his own waterlogged device from his pocket. “Dammit.”

“I can fix them,” Ace said, taking Gavin’s phone, “it’ll just take twice as long.” He opened the door to his room, letting go of a sigh, “But I’m glad you got to prove your point.” Gavin sputtered, feeling heat spread from his face to the rest of his body. If he kept it up, he might not need a dryer for his clothes.

Ace dipped into his bedroom, returning with a handful of garments. “This is the second time we’ve had a wardrobe malfunction,” he began, dropping the clothes in Gavin’s arms, “any more and I’ll start to think there’s a pattern,” he continued, not at all thrilled with the implication, “I took the liberty guessing your size, figured I might as well have backups if, well, _this_.” Ace gestured to their wet forms. Water was better than blood, of course, but these accidents had him feeling childish like he’d forgotten his manners.

Gavin said nothing, apprehensive of the impromptu gift, of Ace’s foresight. The vampire didn’t wait for a response, instead left him in the hallway, firm when he closed the door. Gavin had half a mind to chase after him, demanding he rectify the uncertainty whittling away at his resolve to simply think of the vampire as a burden as opposed to a benefit.

But he didn’t. He took his cold limbs and grumbling mouth into the guest bedroom, undressing, and stepping into the shower, which seemed to know exactly the amount of heat and pressure he needed. Yet, despite the inferno cascading over his head, he felt icy. His skin itched and pebbled where the water hit it like fingers running across his skin, touching more than anyone had in a long time.

* * *

“Are you sure you can fix them?” Gavin asked for the second time in a row. Apparently, Ace wasn’t working fast enough.

“Isn’t there a movie you can watch while I work?” Ace answered with his own question, never pausing his disassembling of the glorified pieces of glass and metal.

“No thank you,” Gavin said, curtailing the offence in his voice, “I’d rather watch what you’re doing with my phone,” he continued, sitting close enough to see but not be in the way. They were in Ace’s workshop, in a corner devoted to small things that required even smaller tools. The vampire insisted on fixing their phones before feeding, creating a false sense of urgency between them.

“I promise I won’t peek at your nudes,” Ace said in that deadpan way of his. It almost made Gavin ignore his words, just to rewind them in his head, the thought skipping like a bad disc.

“ _What_ ,” Gavin’s voice cracked, his face going a deep shade of red, “I don’t have nudes, I just, you know what, forget it,” he said, pushing away from the table. He walked further into the workshop to clear his head, leaning against one of the metal beams. Sometimes he forgot Ace wasn’t just some uppity vampire with fancy suits, but a professor, who more likely than not overheard his students talk crassly in the hallways, in class before lectures, behind his back when they thought he wasn’t listening.

It shouldn’t be surprising, yet hearing it coming from _him_...well, it made Gavin feel like he was learning what sex was for the first time, his mom doing her best but ultimately deferring to an educational video.

With nothing better to do, Gavin crept further into the shop, his eyes catching on the half-covered car in the centre. He did a double-take—his old sedan nearly unrecognizable in its stripped state. When he’d last seen it, it’d been nothing but the iron frame, at least now it had a body, bare of paint and rust, waiting for a new coat.

“I thought you’d junked this!” Gavin called out, inexplicably touched by the fact that the vampire _hadn’t_ , that despite calling it unsalvageable, he was trying to restore it. Gavin remembered the moment Ace towed it away, how it’d felt like a final goodbye.

Ace paused, looking towards his drudge, to his work-in-progress. “I changed my mind,” he said, leaving it at that.

“What are you doing with it?” Gavin asked when he returned, reclaiming his seat, curious now that his embarrassment had ebbed.

“Fixing it,” Ace said, nearly finished with his phone, “if all goes well, it’ll be retrofitted with a battery, which should breathe new life into its old body.”

“Seems tedious,” Gavin said, thinking it was best to follow up with, “did you do that to all your cars?”

Ace spared a glance to Gavin, hoping he wouldn’t be ridiculed for his honesty. “Only the ones I drive often,” he answered, “you’d be surprised how difficult it is to find parts for cars older than forty years.” 

“And you do this all by yourself?” Gavin pressed, knowing the man had both time and energy to spare, yet finding the reality of his lonely existence a bit depressing.

“In the beginning, I had help, mainly from other aficionados, teachers, et cetera,” Ace said, testing his phone for power, “but yes, I do this all by myself.”

“By choice or...”

Ace narrowed his eyes, clicking closed the screen to its body, turning on his device and putting it to the side before he decided to answer. “I work better alone.”

“Better than being in bad company, I suppose,” Gavin tutted, feeling a misstep away from putting his foot in his mouth. “Would you ever teach anyone?”

The question caught Ace off-guard, his hand slipping off the prying tool he used against Gavin’s broken screen. “Only if they were willing to learn,” he replied, “wouldn’t want to waste anyone’s time.”

“Right,” Gavin agreed, feeling their conversation fizzle out. For now, he let Ace work in peace, watched as—with great care—he unscrewed parts of his phone and replaced them with things he had at hand, the pieces of junk lying across his desk seeming more like potential projects the more Gavin thought about it. He almost wished he hadn’t been so dismissive of Ace’s hobby, seeing how it benefited him.

The vampire had made it clear to him once, _you’re obviously enjoying my unnecessary skill_ , he’d said, not without his own sprinkle of arrogance. That’d been before everything—when they were _somewhat_ friendly with each other.

“Would you teach me?” And because ‘manners maketh man,’ Gavin added, “please.”

The man was just full of surprises, wasn’t he? Ace sighed, meeting Gavin’s hopeful gaze with a quizzical brow, not trusting Gavin to be one-hundred percent serious. “Only if you’re willing to learn,” he repeated, modifying his requirements. If he were being honest, it wouldn’t be a bad idea. The car was already out of commission, if they messed up, it would be yet another teaching opportunity. 

“Let’s hope you’re a good teacher then,” Gavin said, playful when he slapped Ace’s shoulder.

“According to my students, I was one of the best,” Ace said—and there was that confident (see: arrogant) vampire he’d come to tolerate.

“Do you offer extra-credit?” Gavin teased, leaning closer.

“Only after hours,” Ace teased back, entertaining himself with Gavin’s widened stare.

“Oh, shut up,” Gavin mumbled, hating how hot his face got whenever they took each other a little less seriously.


	19. In the depths of the soul, there lies the truth (Can't you see it?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who wants to fix a car?!
> 
> Title from song by Skinshape - Oracolo

“And this?” Ace asked, holding up a tool.

Gavin took it, twisting the object in his grip. “A screwdriver,” he said with less conviction than he did his name.

“No, it’s hex key or an Allen wrench,” the vampire corrected, restraining a sigh when he took back the tool.

“They’re all screwdrivers to me,” Gavin grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Gavin—”

“Sorry, I just,” the drudge stopped, feeling like an absolute idiot. How could he further explain the lack of a father in his life? His mom—God bless her—tried her best, she taught him how to cook at least. But this ‘manly’ labour stuff, it just wasn’t in his head. This was day two of learning the difference between a screwdriver and everything else. Just seeing the number of tools there were—the many more Ace had stashed in some organized drawer—filled him with anxiety. And these tests, little quizzes Gavin was sure the vampire took great pleasure in watching him fail, were just daily reminders he had the attention span of a squirrel.

“It’s fine, we’ll just start over,” Ace said, shuffling the pile.

“ _Ace_ ,” Gavin whined, a toddler in an adult’s body.

“You’re the one who said they wanted to learn,” the vampire reminded, holding up a finger, “in a pinch I can’t have you handing me the wrong tool or the wrong sized tool.”

Though pouting, Gavin kept quiet and nodded, taking the object being handed to him. He recognized the tip, narrowing his eyes at the vampire when he said, “This is a screwdriver.”

“Yes,” Ace replied, a smile playing on his lips, “and this one.”

“A flat-head?” Gavin said, running his finger across the flat edge.

“Indeed,” Ace said, passing him another.

“That hex wrench, or whatever,” Gavin said, gripping the L shape in his hand.

“Hex _key_ , but yes,” Ace replied, “here,” he continued, pushing another tool into Gavin’s space.

“A wrench?” the drudge answered, holding the handle, making a cranking motion.

“Yes, but what kind of wrench?”

“There’s different types?”

“Don’t be naïve,” Ace said, trying his best to be kind, “you know there’s more than one type.”

“I—” Gavin sighed, rubbing his eyes. He wasn’t sure why this filled him with so much unease, enough that it brought tears to his sockets. “I don’t know,” he admitted, giving up.

“That’s okay,” Ace said, “I’d rather you tell me you don’t know than guess,” he continued, laying out a few ‘wrenches.’ “Allen,” he began, pointing to each one, “socket, pipe, lug, adjustable, open-ended, ratchet, box ended.”

“Can we take a break?” Gavin asked, a few more wrenches away from overwhelm. “Please?”

“Gavin, at this rate we’ll never fix your car,” Ace said, packing away his tools to start quizzing him again. The drudge looked at him, eyes big and pleading. Ace wondered if Gavin was aware he was doing it, of the impact it had on him when he did. “You get five minutes,” he sighed, much to the renewed joy of his student.

* * *

“Why cars?” Gavin asked by his place beside Ace. The vampire had his hands deep inside the hood, old oil and debris coating his long fingers. Ace—the hypocrite—insisted Gavin wear gloves, despite the fact he was doing most of the heavy lifting. They were in the process of removing the engine and all other unnecessary components, the floor littered with their progress.

“What do you mean?” Ace returned, sparing Gavin a glance.

“Out of everything you look like you do, fixing cars is not one of them,” Gavin replied, leaning on his forearms to get a better view of Ace’s work.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to never judge a book by its cover?” Ace teased, grunting with the effort to release one of the hex nuts, its rusted body working against him.

“I know, but still,” Gavin shrugged, his cheeks tinged pink, “you don’t strike me as a guy who enjoys manual labour.”

“No one enjoys manual labour, Gavin, but we do it because the finished product is a reward unto itself,” Ace said, working on the other hex nuts. “If we”—he paused, grumbling with the effort, the metal groaned beneath his hands, giving way to his insistence— “if we always chose the easy way out, we’d never learn to appreciate the work that went into producing something.”

“But no one can do everything,” Gavin countered.

“That’s not the point,” Ace replied, nearly finished with the last hex nut, “one can admire something without ever having contributed to it. The difference between admiration and consumption is empathy. If I know even a fraction of what it’s like to build something, I can then relate to the creator.”

“And yet no one but you gets to see your hard work,” Gavin said, following Ace to one of the cranes.

“And now you,” the man reminded, wheeling the crane in front of the car. “Here,” he said, leading the chain to Gavin’s hand, “hook it where you think it goes.”

“You’re just gonna let me free-hand this?” the drudge asked, “sure that’s a good idea?”

“Use your common sense, Gavin,” Ace said, putting his foot on the hydraulic crane to keep it from sliding, “how would you attach the hooks so the weight is evenly distributed between the chains?”

“I…what?”

“There’s only two of them,” Ace explained, gentle, “and four sides to the engine, you’ll either put them across vertically or horizontally—one of those ways is better than the other.” Gavin took a guess, hooking one chain on the left and right side of the engine, hoping it’d hold when they pulled. “Excellent,” Ace said, managing a smile for the anxious man, “would you like to do the honours?” he asked, motioning to the lever.

“Are you sure?” Gavin asked, running a gloved hand through his hair.

“Gavin, it’s your car,” the vampire reminded, stepping around the crane to hold it steady, “don’t be afraid to make a mistake or two.”

“Or three or four,” the drudge continued, sticking out his tongue. He did take the lever, though, pushing with a grunt, “that’s heavy.”

“Here,” Ace said, placing a hand on Gavin’s, smearing soot on the leather, “it’s a push-pull motion,” he guided, the engine heaving and creaking against the rest of the rusted parts, budging with enough insistence. “You think you have the rest?”

“Y-yeah,” Gavin said, biting the inside of his cheek. This really was like being a kid again, his teacher’s patient hands leading him to the correct answer despite the stumbling blocks shaking in his turbid mind.

“Always watch what you’re doing,” Ace continued, keeping the crane from drifting, “the lever will be there if you look away, but the engine might be leaking oil, or pieces might be falling off—if you were going to return it to the car, you wouldn’t want to lose any of those.”

“Right,” Gavin nodded, taking his eyes off his hands, and putting them on the rusted heart, it’s pumps overdue for a replacement. “How long do I keep pumping?”

“Until you’re clear enough to move the engine out of the way,” Ace said, “which should be about now.” Gavin stopped, taking his hands off the lever, holding them up like someone was about to shock him. “Check to make sure it’s fully disconnected from the car.”

Gavin did as he was told, looking around the engine to see if they’d missed anything. “Seems to be okay,” he said, giving two thumbs up. He walked back to the lever, tripping on one of the crane’s outstretched legs. It would’ve been a quick and painful way down if Ace weren’t there to catch him, moving like air.

“Careful,” he reprimanded, pulling them outside of the crane, “there’s a lot of dangerous objects in here and I’m not always going to have my eyes on you.” Ace dusted him off, petting his arms, dragging streaks of old oil down them. Ace made a face, using one of his cleanest rags to correct his mess. “Better now?” he asked, wiping his own fingers.

The blush on Gavin’s cheeks burned all the way down his chest, his voice had left the room minutes ago, and his only saving grace was the vampire’s insistence on keeping their physical contact as brief as possible. He gulped in a breath, holding it until the worst of his skipping heartbeat settled, and even then, he couldn’t help how it flailed in his chest each time he chanced a glance at the vampire.

He nodded once, however, knowing his silence would prompt yet another slew of questions.

* * *

“You asked yesterday why I chose cars,” Ace said from his space beside Gavin. Their project was flipped on its side, underbelly exposed for them to disassemble each nut, bolt, and screw, and replace it with the large battery pack still in its protective film.

Gavin held a box of tools, watching Ace work with passive curiosity. They’d agreed that all the technical stuff would fall on Ace after he’d expressed his fear of electrocution, and—despite Ace’s reassurance that everything was perfectly safe if he were ‘grounded’—he didn’t want to risk it. Besides, there was something quite satisfying watching an expert hand undo all that was wrong with his car, fix it, and make it new again. The broken silence was nearly unwelcome, having learned from their many interactions that they worked better when neither said anything at all.

“I guess I did,” Gavin said, moving in unison with the vampire.

“Chloe used to own a horse,” Ace said, watching his step as more parts fell from the old car, “Frederic was his name,” he continued, recalling with a smile, “it was a nasty horse, hated everyone and anyone that wasn’t Chloe—even North couldn’t touch him.”

“And you?”

“I think I was eleven years old when it tried to bite my fingers off,” Ace said, chuckling at the memory, Gavin snorted—unable to help himself. “If I could scar, I’d show you to prove it.” The vampire wiggled the fingers on his right hand, pristine despite the dirt and oil covering them. “My fault, of course, Chloe warned me not to touch him.”

“Of course,” Gavin teased, his grey eyes sparkling, “when children don’t listen…”

“They feel, I know,” Ace completed for him, “regardless, Frederic was a beautiful horse. An Ardennes, I believe, black hooves and mane with a grey coat—a warhorse, Chloe said.” Gavin kept quiet whilst Ace spoke, soaking in his intonation. Rarely did he speak above the monotonous inflection of nonchalance—he’d hate to ruin it with a pointless interjection. “I watched him run laps around his enclosure, frightening, and powerful—I swear each gallop shook the ground.

“He got stuck once,” Ace paused, looking at his hands again, remembering the blood, the sting of the thorns, the heat from Frederic’s muscles, his frightened _neighs_. “And I know Chloe would’ve killed me if anything happened to me for getting too close, for disobeying her, but I just couldn’t—I couldn’t watch him suffer while I went to get her.”

Gavin held onto every word, his brows furrowed, waiting with bated breath for Ace to continue.

“I’ll never forget the moment I got him free,” Ace said, his voice lowering to a whisper, “I might’ve died that day and not even known it.”

“You didn’t,” Gavin couldn’t help but say, standing ever closer, “what happened?”

“It dipped its head low into my shoulder and slobbered all over my suit with its snort,” Ace said, shaking his head at the memory, “from that day, it didn’t run away from the sight of me, it’d even trot up and press its large head into my body, let me press back with my hands. I can still feel his heartbeat, the sheer force of his gait when Chloe taught me how to ride.” Ace took a deep breath, his smile breaking a little. “When he passed, I…I didn’t know what to do with my afternoons. No other horse compared to Frederic, and Chloe must’ve felt it too because she never replaced him.” He put a hand on the car’s frame, patting it once. “I wanted to recreate the energy that horse had, its vitality, its freedom.”

Ace sighed, pulling himself out of his memories with a shake of the head, “I suppose a car is a close second.”

“And I take it robotics was just a natural evolution?” Gavin guessed.

“Once I started inventing, I wasn’t very biased in what I made,” Ace said, resuming his unscrewing, “so yes, I suppose you could call it an evolution.”

“Yet you never stopped fixing cars,” Gavin hummed, smiling like he’d cracked the code.

“I’ve yet to find another Frederic.”

* * *

Gavin stared at the mansion with half-lidded eyes, a yawn overtaking his mouth every few minutes. It was the ass-crack of dawn again, and it was no one’s fault but his own. Ace insisted—nearly begged—that he go home and sleep, that they didn’t have to spend the _whole_ day working on his car. But his body wouldn’t listen, it rebelled and threw heat tantrums, intense enough the ice-cold setting on his shower felt warm. Ace’s feeding schedule interfered with their work schedule, and Gavin’s only solution was to, well _not_ sleep at night, feed the vampire during sunrise, _sleep_ the day away, and _then_ work on the car. It was messy, but it worked, and you know what they say about fixing things that aren’t broken.

Besides, Ace’s couch was more comfortable than his bed.

At this point, he didn’t even have to knock, Ace’s internal sensor almost as sensitive as Gavin’s. With only a “morning” passing between them, Ace led his drudge to the kitchen, feeding him breakfast before he had a chance to protest. Which—to Gavin’s credit—was happening less the more they did this.

“ _Mmm_ ,” Gavin groaned against his fork, the sweet pancake melting against his tongue, nearing nirvana, “how the fuck do you cook so well when you can’t even taste it?” it almost sounded like he was angry, his eyes screwed shut, lips bitten and raw from his gnawing. It helped that he was half-asleep, his filter less than stellar even on the _best_ of days.

Ace cleared his throat, cheeks bright and hot, contrasting against his shirt like a stoplight. “I may not be able to taste the food, but I can taste you—I mean, y-your blood, and your reaction to the food, so.”

Gavin stopped chewing, his tired eyes moving across Ace’s face before the settled on his eyes, adjusting when he said, “Well, it’s fucking delicious.” He closed his sentence with a poignant bite, sighing into the treat.

“I’ll be in the common room,” the vampire said, stopping when Gavin reached for him, awake enough to always take him by surprise. “Yes?”

“Feed right here,” Gavin suggested, patting the seat next to his, extending his arm in an open invitation to partake, “and before you say anything, it’d be killing two birds with one stone.”

It was logical, Ace would give him that much, and to fight common sense didn’t do him any good. He took the offered seat, pulling back Gavin’s long sleeve, his mouth never failing to fill with saliva and venom at the sight. The arteries thrummed with a steady beat whilst the veins gorged to the surface, purple and thick, the constant re-entry of his fangs having toughened them.

“If you keep staring, I’m gonna think there’s something wrong,” Gavin said, leaning on his other hand, his breakfast done, and plate pushed aside.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just,” Ace sighed, circling the scar with delicate pressure, “I wish I didn’t have to mark you like this.” If nothing else, he hoped it came out sincere.

“You’re not the only one who’s left me with scars,” Gavin said, reaching for the one on his nose, “at least you didn’t push me off a tree.”

Ace cocked his head, his hunger ignored when he asked, “Pardon?” Gavin looked at him, just as confused, and Ace had to clarify, “Who pushed you off a tree?”

“My half-brother.”

The immediate, all-consuming rancour, which flowed through Gavin’s bloodstream at the mere reminder of his sibling, had Ace scrunching up his nose. It burned to breathe, the acidity latching to his tongue, his throat, potent and rotten. He cleared his throat once, his appetite evaporating. “I didn’t know you had a brother,” he managed to say, his chest tight, years of resentment bubbling towards the surface of a consciousness that wasn’t entirely his. If nothing else, he could empathize with Gavin—brotherly animosity was yet another thing they shared.

“Yeah, I don’t really like to think about him,” Gavin said, which was overstating the obvious, “he’s a hybrid like my dad, so of course, he’s the better child.” Ace didn’t stop his hand from reaching towards Gavin, from pressing a brief but tight squeeze on his shoulder, his eyes round and deep with understanding. Gavin leaned into the touch, letting it calm him as the vampire intended. “I was born first though—no matter what he says, I’m older.”

“The great fallacy with being a hybrid,” Ace agreed, letting his hand drop, “they’re the strange in-between, belonging to no other group but their own.”

“I could’ve been a hybrid,” Gavin said, nothing short of humorous, “instead I got the hypersensitivity.”

“If it means anything to you, I’m glad you’re not a hybrid,” Ace admitted, “they tend to be a bit arrogant.”

“I’m sure the universe is just a giant mirror, Ace,” Gavin said, his smile growing, “are you sure you’re not projecting?”

Ace’s frown could’ve frozen Hell. “And I suppose this is divine punishment for trying to console you.”

“Aww, Ace,” Gavin cooed, patting the vampire’s cheek, “I’m sure one day I’ll appreciate it,” he said, “but I’d rather you bite me to make me feel better.”

Ace closed his eyes, his fangs poking out of his top lip, no longer his to command. “I know you know not to use that term so freely, Gavin.” It would have been effective as a reprimand if Ace weren’t already scenting his drudge’s wrist, the acrid memory nothing but an aftertaste, dissipating with the wind.

“Bite me.”

* * *

Gavin’s eyes shot open, his eyes struggling to adjust in the dark. His left wrist burned something fierce whilst he fought with his heart to calm down. He searched his pockets for his phone, squinting at the time.

“Fuck.” The word came from the depths of his soul, leaving his lips in a tumble of groggy recognition. “Damn you, Ace,” he cursed again, rubbing his wrist, the tender flesh still hot from a twelve-hour old feed.

Gavin crawled out of bed, his bones popping with every stretch. He walked into the bathroom to wash the stale taste of breakfast from his mouth, splashing cool water on his warm face. The eyes staring back at him were red-rimmed, the bags beneath them black and bottomless. He touched the scruff on his chin, his cheeks, wondering if he’d aged three days in one.

He padded back into the guest bedroom looking at the bed like it’d offended him, like it was responsible for his plight. Out of spite, he left it unmade, sneaking his way downstairs and finding his shoes by the front door.

“That wasn’t cool,” Gavin grumbled, sensing Ace’s presence before he saw him.

“You forced my hand,” the vampire replied.

“I know,” the drudge replied, rubbing his neck, “I’m sorry.”

“I am also sorry,” Ace replied, taking a deep breath before he continued, “I didn’t have to ‘knock you out’.”

“I’m still tired, believe it or not,” Gavin said, stifling a yawn, “and hungry.”

Ace’s chuckle took them both by surprise, the sound still novel despite it not being the first time either of them had heard it. The vampire shook his head and said, “Me too,” disbelief coating every syllable.

“We’re like a double-headed Ouroboros,” Gavin mumbled, already on his way to the kitchen, “let’s try this again, shall we?”

* * *

“Fuck!” Gavin exclaimed, hugging his hand to his chest, blood blooming and staining his apron. Ace was by his side in an instant, kneeling where he’d been trying to pry the hubcaps from the wheels. He’d forgone his gloves, because of course he did, and the damned plastic had cut him as a rebuke, an I-told-you-so, mirroring Ace’s annoyed and worried stare.

“Let me see,” the vampire said, holding out his hand.

“I’m fine,” Gavin grunted, despite the aching in his palm, each pulse drawing more blood.

“Let me see, Gavin,” Ace repeated, his teeth clamped together. Gavin relented, handing over his left hand, blood pooling to the surface where the vampire stretched his fingers. Ace, for all his composure, struggled with holding his own hands steady, his primal brain seeing red and nothing else for a few hard seconds.

“You’re lucky your shots are up to date,” Ace said, standing, expecting Gavin to follow his lead. The drudge did so, despite an initial delay, tracking a few drops of blood on the floor. They rounded the corner to a washing station, the basin empty save for some chrome bolts. Ace started the water, testing the temperature with the inside of his wrist. He motioned for Gavin to hand him his hand again, his blood painting the water pink as it washed over the wound.

Gavin hissed at the sting, his entire arm pulsing, fresh blood beading to the surface.

“Safety should be your number one priority,” Ace said, nearly grumbling, “not convenience.” He rummaged through the clean rags for one with minimal stains, and using his mildest soap, he scrubbed with care at the wound. “Rust is not to be played with,” he continued, sighing when the cut wouldn’t stop bleeding, “you might need stitches.”

“Stitches?” Gavin parroted, looking at the vampire like he’d lost his mind, “just lick it closed,” he said, a bright blush on his cheeks. He hadn’t misunderstood the healing properties of Ace’s saliva, had he?

The vampire shook his head, eyes closing, feeling the red rim around his irises grow now that Gavin’s blood had made its way to his feeding sensors “And what lesson would that teach?” he managed to claw out of his throat, slowing his breaths to the mandatory one or two he needed for survival.

“That’s my feeding arm, you know,” Gavin reminded, hoping it’d spur a sense of pity in the vampire, “can’t have it incapacitated.”

Ace, for all his intentions of keeping his vows to stoicism, couldn’t help the tremble starting in his fingertips, the same ones holding Gavin by the wrist, his pulse strong—if a bit fast—getting wet from the water. “Wear your gloves next time,” Ace said, chewing his words through gravel, his tongue already pressed to the open seam in Gavin’s palm before his drudge could retort.

The relief was instantaneous, the pulsing ache turning into a dull throb, until it was just an unpleasant reminder. Water still rushed past Gavin’s ears, his heart lodged deep into this throat, choking him with each beat. He’d never considered his palms to be sensitive, so much so that each swipe of Ace’s tongue sent a thrill up his arm, almost painful in its intensity.

He may have made a noise, he wasn’t sure, because the vampire froze, his red eyes snapping open to meet Gavin’s. It’s like they’d each caught the other with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar, its tempting sweetness too much to resist.

Ace dropped his wrist, averting his eyes, and washing the worst of the damage from his sink. He turned it off, shoulders stiff as he stepped away from it, just to return moments later with Gavin’s gloves in his hands, his irides still tinged red. He pressed them against Gavin’s chest, waiting for him to catch up and take them from him.

“Don’t take them off until you’re done,” he warned, saying nothing else when he returned to the car.

* * *

“How do you do it, Chloe?” Gavin asked digging into his third bowl of cereal. It was his mandatory day off (Ace’s insistence, not his) and he’d already wasted half of it by sleeping.

“What do you mean?” she replied on the other side of the phone, her tone curious. It was late enough in the day to call it evening, but Gavin’s body screamed morning. Tomorrow was his birthday, and he had no inkling of how he got there when it was only yesterday he’d suggested Ace teach him how to fix his car.

“Timekeeping,” Gavin clarified, “how do you work and keep North fed when she’s nocturnal and you’re…well, human?”

“Discipline,” Chloe replied. It almost sounded like she’d leave it at that, lock away her words of wisdom so Gavin would figure it out himself, but that was neither her nature nor a useful tactic to get _anyone_ to learn anything. “Vampires aren’t technically ruled by a circadian rhythm. Sure, they prefer the night because they can’t freely enjoy the sun, and they do rest,” she reminded, “but _you_ dictate when you feed your vampire,” she said, hoping Gavin understood it was his choice and not the other way around, “if it works better for you that Ace eat at your bedtime, then feed him at night.”

At this point, having a vampire was more like having a pet than a husband.

Gavin sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “I can’t do that, Chloe, venom puts me to sleep,” he reminded, knowing she knew, but his penchant for stating the obvious didn’t die any more than his hunger did, “if I did it that way, I’d be sleeping over every night—which, at that point, I might as well be living there.”

“I’ll be frank, Gavin, I’m not seeing the issue here,” she said, a tease flirting with the edges of her smile, “most drudge/vampire pairs live together at one point or another.” 

“Next I’ll be sleeping in his bed,” the drudge grumbled, “give me a break, Chloe.”

“I did not say that,” she returned, her laugh twinkling in the receiver, “I’m saying that convenience sometimes requires a few sacrifices, just as inconvenience requires a few stressors.”

“I’m not moving in with Ace!” Gavin snapped, regretting his outburst the moment it left his lips. Chloe wasn’t responsible for his ire and if she knew the reason for his hesitation, she’d probably shake her head and laugh.

Again.

“I did not say you had to,” Chloe reminded, gentle, all traces of her tease gone.

“Good,” Gavin replied, because stubbornness was his drug of choice.

Chloe hummed, her mirth never one to lessen in the face of adversity. She’d had enough practice with Ace to deal with Gavin, she just didn’t know it at the time. “Will you be with Ace tomorrow?” she asked, changing the subject.

“…Yes,” he answered, biting his lips “we’re still fixing my car.”

“Of course,” she agreed, “I’m sure it’s coming along beautifully.”

“He’s doing most of the work, but yes, it actually is,” Gavin admitted, his old bucket of bolts more of a bucket of batteries, but he could see the finish line, he just had to run a little faster to get there.

“I’m glad,” Chloe said, “well, I’ll talk to you later, Gavin. Try not to think _too_ hard about anything, it does one no good to stress over simplicity.”

“Bye, Chloe,” Gavin replied, looking at his empty bowl, the thin ring of milk already dried to the edges. _Don’t stress,_ she says, _while she has it made with her wife_. Bitterness tasted like sour candy, and it did him no favours other than further ruining his mood.

He stood, turning on the faucet and washing his dish—over and over he scrubbed until he was sure it was clean. Doing the same to his hands, he turned hand over fist, the soap’s bubbles clinging to his skin like a film, leaving them dry and red. Nothing like Ace’s soap, hydrating as it was, he almost didn’t need to use lotion—

Gavin stopped his train of thought, grumbling at that nagging voice and its goddamned tenacity to shove the vampire into everything he did even if it had nothing to do with him. He slumped into his lumpy couch, already showings signs of wear and tear despite it being younger than the lease on his apartment.

His left hand ached, an unsteady reminder that had him balling it into a fist, digging semilunars into its delicate flesh. He’d inspected his palm under his bright fluorescent lights the minute he got home, only managing to find the faintest hint of a scar. It was sensitive, nonetheless, same as his wrist, his neck, each press of his finger had his arm trembling, the sensation not entirely unpleasant. It’d been torture wearing the gloves, the furry insides tickling him like overzealous kisses, it’d taken everything to ignore it.

Now, though a day had passed, he could still feel the phantom sting of the hubcap’s jagged edges, the firm swipes of Ace’s tongue, deliberate and utilitarian. At least he would’ve been if he hadn’t kept going past the healing point, the dark veins around his eyes faint but growing—almost as if he’d been lost in the taste of Gavin alone.

Restraining a sigh out of principle, he grabbed his phone, scrolling past the useless contacts—the ones you put in your phone when you had a project due and didn’t delete because you were lazy—until he was at the end, returning to the top. Ace’s name was the first on his list, a consequence of its spelling, he was certain.

“What am I doing?” Gavin asked out loud, able to make out his eyes in the surrounding darkness of his screen, “what the hell am I doing?” he asked again when he dialled the number and pressed the ringing phone to his ear.

“Good evening, Gavin,” Ace said, answering on the second ring.

“A bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” Gavin replied, turning over on his couch, hugging the nearest pillow to his pounding heart, “what if I’d been kidnapped and they’re calling for ransom? Then they know you know me.”

“In that case,” Ace began, his tone flat, “good evening, kidnappers—I hope you have plenty of food and water, since you’ll be needing a hefty supply of both to keep him satisfied.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Gavin said with no energy behind it, “I don’t even know why I called,” he mumbled, contemplating the red button shining in the bottom middle of his screen.

“You’re bored,” Ace guessed, though it wasn’t that hard to ascertain, not when he felt similarly.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Gavin said, “the last time I tried to make friends you got all macho vampire on me so, this partly your fault,” he teased, hoping his blush wasn’t as noticeable over the phone as it was to him.

“Try to make _human_ friends first before you do vampiric ones, Gavin, and we shouldn’t have a problem,” Ace counselled, turning to the next page in his book.

“But what if I fall in love with another vampire?” Gavin asked, curious more than cruel, “will you try and stop me then?”

“If you’re calling to bother me with hypotheticals, you’ll have to find a better use of both our time, because, as I’m certain you’re aware, I have the ability to hang up.” It was a good way to avoid answering the question, to further reveal that he cared, that his evolutionary failsafe could be exploited.

“But you won’t, will you?” Gavin said, surer of that than his own middle name, “because that would be rude, and you may be an arrogant prick, but you’re not rude.” The beat of silence that followed his statement was quiet enough to wring a bit of doubt out of Gavin, but his fears abated the moment he heard Ace’s soft sigh, filling the static like wind.

“Maybe you should fall in love with another vampire, Gavin,” Ace said despite the curdling disgust in his stomach, “I’d like to see you be nice for once.”

“I don’t think you could handle me if I were nice to you,” Gavin said, “you blush like a virgin every time I compliment your cooking, heaven forbid I start to compliment anything else.”

“Goodnight, Gavin—”

“Wait!” Gavin rushed, hating how much the thought of ending their conversation on a bad note upset him, “I’m sorry, you’re pissed again—but what’s new, you’re always pissed.”

Ace’s heart stopped in his throat, a shiver of remembrance ending in his fingers, making them tremble, loosening his grip on his book—which fell with an unceremonious thud. “How can I not be?” he asked, both to this Gavin and his past shadow.

Maybe this time he’d get an answer.

“I guess neither of us is over this ‘accident,’” Gavin sighed, flipping on his back, “even though we say we’re fine with it, signed the papers, feed each other—we’re still resentful.”

“Since you’re the master of what if’s, would you accept a cure if given the chance?” Ace asked, unsure which one of Gavin’s answer he was anticipating, which one would hurt more.

“You want me to say ‘yes,’ don’t you?” Gavin retorted, irony dancing in his words, “because it would fit the mould you’ve cast me in,” he continued, laying a hand on his chest, “well, how’s this for nice? I don’t mind being your drudge, Ace. Is it annoying that a part of me also belongs to you, yes, but at this point, I don’t know what else I’d do? All my applications were rejected—you were the only one who’d hire me.”

“You still didn’t answer the question,” Ace reminded, his heart speeding up to a near-human level.

“Is this cure for me or for you?”

“For both of us.”

“I wonder which answer would spite you, Ace,” Gavin said, his voice dropping an octave, “whichever that is, is my answer.”

“You’re—” Ace had to hold back his bite, lest he bark like a dog, “you’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I hope you’re buckled in, dealing with me is a long drive,” Gavin admitted, “I could give you my mom’s number if you want some help.”

Ace made a sound of disbelief, stuck between a laugh and a scoff. “Goodnight, Gavin, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Ace, I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this was version one of this story, you know they'd have fucked by now, but alas, it's version two, and we're taking it sloooow, like molasses.


	20. Where there’s lightning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi~ 
> 
> Sorry, this is taking so long to update. But I did mention they'll start slowing down as I run out of pre-made chapters. This one, in particular, needed about three days of rest before I tackled it again. The first time I read it I'm like, this feels rushed, but the second time, I'm like. mmm, I don't know how to fix it, so please, if you have any suggestions, let me know. 
> 
> Also, it's been forever since I've said this, but thank you so much for all the kind words and kudos. You guys are keeping me going. I know this premise is old and overdone in some areas, and that the fandom is slowly settling into the ground, but I'm just happy people even give me the time of day. Thank you, a million times! Also, it goes without saying, but excuse the typos, she's a big chapter.

Gavin woke after a long night’s battle with sleep—he wasn’t even sure if his eyelids opened or if he was once again aware of his surroundings. He floated towards the bathroom, unflinching when the cold water hit his hot skin. Getting something to eat was a failed attempt at humour, but he tried regardless, managing a few bites. His phone rang somewhere in the distance and he swore he teleported to it, wondering where he’d mustered the strength to notice his feet hitting the floor.

“Hello,” he greeted, his voice unrecognizable.

“Are you still asleep, darling?” a woman asked. It took Gavin an embarrassing amount of time to realize it was the woman who’d birthed him.

“Hi mom,” Gavin said, waking up a bit, “what’s up?”

“What’s up? Gavin, it’s your birthday!” she said, joy brimming in her tone, “my little munchkin is not so little anymore,” she continued, managing to embarrass what little emotions he had early in the morning.

“That’s right,” Gavin said, rubbing his eyes, “I almost forgot.”

“Yes,” Ms. Reed said, suspicion taking hold, “what have you been doing that you almost forgot your own birthday?” she asked.

“Ah, you know, these things start to matter less when you’re older,” Gavin said, a poor excuse but a valid one.

“Uh-huh, you mean they matter less when you’re not getting cake,” she corrected, narrowing her eyes, “I see how it is.”

Gavin had enough decency to blush. “You got me.”

“Are you doing anything special?” she asked, “or is that vampire making you work on your birthday?”

“He doesn’t make me do anything,” Gavin was quick to defend, voice unapologetically shrill. “We’re actually fixing the sedan, so, before you go assuming he’s got me locked up somewhere just know he’s building my means to escape.”

Carolina threw her head back and laughed, bringing a chuckle or two out of Gavin. “Knowing you, he’s probably built _his_ getaway car, and yours is just a dummy.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” Gavin countered, though he had no proof to back up his claims.

“No, Gavin, at the end of the day you’re not,” Carolina conceded with a deep sigh, “I have to run now, but have a wonderful day, and don’t work too hard!” she said, giving him a virtual hug, “also, your gift should get to you in a few days, I hope you like it.”

“Mom, you didn’t have—”

“Stop right there,” Carolina warned, “until I die, you are my son, and if I want to give you a gift, you’ll just have to accept—end of discussion.”

“Yes, mom.” Only she could make a present sound like a reprimand. They said their goodbyes, his cheeks marred with her virtual kisses. There were a few other individuals—distant relatives, an old high school friend, his internet service provider—who also wished him a happy birthday. Chloe called, but couldn’t say more than a few words, her court case starting just as she’d dialled.

He’d yet to hear from his dad, but that’d been the norm since he’d left.

Thunder rocked him out of his reverie, his eyes snapping towards the window, rain already howling and pelting its wet streaks against the glass. Gavin shook his head, grabbing his keys, jacket, and umbrella before the storm got any worse.

By the time he got to Ace’s house, the downpour was in full swing, the sky nearly black as night with rain clouds. He drove to the very front of the garage, learning from last time. Ace met him by the door, a curious brow raised high.

“What?” Gavin asked, ducking out of the rain.

“Did you not receive my message?” Ace replied with his own question, eyelids turning to slits.

“Your—” Gavin dug around his pockets for his phone, seeing that, yes, the vampire did indeed send him one. He opened it, snorting at its contents. “If I had a dollar for every time there’s been bad weather when I’ve had a project due, I’d probably be as rich as you,” Gavin said, patting Ace on the shoulder, “thanks, but no thanks, I’d rather be here than stuck at home with this storm.”

“Well, allow me to at least wish you a happy birthday,” Ace said with the mien of a man congratulating another for a job well done. Like the passage of time was something either of them had control over.

“Thank you,” Gavin said, his smile stuck within a grimace, “but I doubt my age matters much anymore.”

“It’s a highlight more than a timer, I’ll agree,” Ace said, nodding once, “but we’re neither infinite nor immortal,” he continued, looking at his hands, how weathered they’d be if they showed how he truly used them, “the day will come when both you and I leave this life for the next.”

“Simultaneously, I hope,” Gavin added, a lump forming in his throat. He’d never stopped to think what would happen if either of them died prematurely, and the thought of asking now—when they were just getting started—drove an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. Mortality was a topic best grappled when one was on their deathbed—not on their birthday.

Ace shook his head, his eyes flickering to the outside world, where lighting struck the faraway trees and thunder followed soon after. “Are you doing anything after this?” he asked, motioning to their half-finished project.

“Of course,” Gavin replied, shrugging his shoulders, “got a real hot date with my bed tonight.” It may have been the deadpan delivery, or Gavin’s ability to subvert Ace’s expectations, but the response brought a genuine laugh out of the vampire, his eyes crinkling, brightening his face. Gavin took the time to appreciate the rarity of this situation, letting the sound of his vampire’s mirth fill whatever vacancy had made itself a staple in his drudge brain.

“I’m serious,” Gavin said after a moment, playing with whatever leftover trinket lay on the table, “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Ace said, certain Gavin’s creativity could stretch beyond the boundaries of his skull—given the chance.

“Glad you think so,” Gavin replied with a predictable eye roll. He walked towards his old car, staring at its underbelly and the battery pack attached to its frame. “I thought you promised not to work on this without me?” Gavin said, the whine in his voice audible even to him.

“I got bored.” Ace, with all his years of learning to entertain himself, couldn’t quite let well enough alone for one day. He walked around Gavin, hooking the chains to the car’s holes, motioning for Gavin to step away with him, keeping them both at a safe distance whilst he lowered the car back on all fours.

Gavin grumbled, seeing it more as a betrayal than a progression. “Is this done at least?” He ran a hand across the cold metal, slightly condensed from the change in atmosphere.

“Not quite,” Ace said, joining Gavin’s side, “installing the battery was the easy part,” he continued, pulling out the schematics for the finished product, “it’ll be a few more days before we’re anywhere near a driveable state.”

“Better get to work then,” Gavin said, tossing Ace a nearby screwdriver. He caught it, because he seldom dropped anything, and put it to the side, picking up his wire strippers and electrical tape. They’d have to sacrifice a portion of the trunk to the motor, but before they could fit it in, they had to make sure it worked. 

Gavin hovered close, dipping his head into Ace’s personal space just to watch his hands twist and connect copper wires to each other. He asked what he was doing and pretended to understand when it was explained to him, hoping he didn’t look too lost. Thunder still cracked overhead, shaking the ground with its volume.

“Would you like to try?” Ace asked, holding out his tools for Gavin to take. The drudge hesitated, his inability to vocalize a proper ‘no’ after he’d chastised the vampire for working on the car without him, coming back to bite him. “Don’t look so scared, I’ll tell you what to do.”

“Like a child, got it,” Gavin joked, hiding his embarrassment with humour.

“We all have to learn somehow,” Ace said, crossing his arms behind his back, “I’m sure there are a few things you could teach me.”

“I’ll let you know if I think of anything,” Gavin returned. He looked at the next set of wires, comparing them to Ace’s finished handiwork. “I’m ready, I guess.”

“First, we’ll strip the wires,” Ace instructed, pointing to the tool he’d used to do it. Gavin grabbed the nearest wire, putting it between the blades and squeezed the handles until he felt it dig into the rubber skin, pulling in the opposite direction. The rubber came away in one piece, exposing the copper within. “Excellent, do the same to the other end.” Gavin did as he was told, holding the stripper with more confidence. “Now we’ll separate the wires, and bring them close, twisting them with each other.”

“And why are we doing this?” Gavin asked, putting aside the wire cutters and electrical tape.

“To form a connection,” Ace said, vague.

“Oh wow, I could’ve never figured that out myself,” Gavin mocked, jumping ahead to taping the joined wires, mimicking Ace’s earlier movements.

“It’s the truth,” the vampire defended, “unless you wanted a lecture on currents, then by all means take a seat.”

“I get it,” Gavin replied, saving his irritation for when the vampire deserved it. Lightning flashed beside them, their shelter holding but not unscathed. A few unsecured items tumbled to the ground, grabbing Gavin’s fleeting attention. “Should we really be playing with electricity in this weather?”

Ace raised an eyebrow, looking between them and the thunderstorm. “Nothing’s powered on yet, the likelihood of you getting shocked is quite small,” he replied, “but if you’d like to post-pone—” The vampire never finished his sentence, interrupted by another bout of thunder and raucous clatter.

When it happened again, this time without Mother Nature’s preamble, they saw the true source of the commotion: A blurry body running at Mach speed into the scrap metal.

Gavin was the first to investigate, ignoring Ace’s warning and basic instinct that ‘approaching wild animals wasn’t a good idea.’ He found the critter pressed as far into a corner as it could, shivering, its fur stuck to its body. Gavin bent low, acknowledging the animal’s fright, and trying not to add to it.

“Hey,” Gavin beckoned, crawling on all fours, “hey, it’s okay,” he promised, keeping direct eye contact with the bundle of fur. It let him get close enough to touch, but no further, as another bout of lightning and thunder startled it into the opposite direction. Gavin grumbled, getting back to his feet before he doubled-back, taking off his protective gloves and handing them to Ace.

“What are you doing?” the vampire asked, his senses heightened by the unknown intruder. He followed Gavin to the front of his workshop, watching him struggle to close the garage doors. “Gavin,” Ace tried again, stuck between amusement and annoyance.

“There’s,” Gavin heaved, pulling the unbudging door with all his strength, “there’s a little cat running around in here,” he continued with gritted teeth, “I don’t want it escaping.” He gave up on the door, looking at it then the vampire. “How do you close these?”

Without a word, Ace flicked the switch beside the entrance, the motorized whirr unwinding the chain that kept the doors suspended. Gavin sighed, resuming his search.

Every few minutes, the thunder brought the critter out of hiding, and Gavin—in his infinite wisdom—chased after it, which incentivized Ace to chase after him. Round and round they went until finally, Gavin caught up to the cat after it’d gotten itself stuck in one of the vampire’s miscellaneous mechanical contraptions.

“There you are,” Gavin sighed, his breathing hard, heartbeat thumping in his ribcage. He reached for the cat, hesitating when it hissed at him, fangs in full display. “Hey, none of that,” Gavin chastised, trying again.

Ace stopped him, his fingers wrapping around his wrist, forming a barrier between him and the cat. He let go just as quickly, Gavin’s attention his for a moment. “What if it’s rabid?” he asked before Gavin could question his audacity.

“It’s not rabid,” the drudge replied, brushing him aside “it’s scared.”

“Even if that’s the case, you don’t know where it’s been,” Ace reminded, the hair on his neck standing at attention, the cat’s subsequent hiss drawing a similar response from him. He had to quell the need to retaliate, to establish dominance—hissing back at a cat wouldn’t bode well for his self-image.

“Let me do this,” Gavin said, “please?” he continued, placating to the vampire’s better nature. Ace shook his head, stepping away from the contraption, moving to Gavin’s side. He needed to be close just in case Gavin did anything _else_ to harm himself.

“Hi,” Gavin cooed into the metal, unperturbed by the cat’s answering hiss, “I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster, tempting fate by introducing his hand to the cat, letting it decide to sniff or attack him.

The grey tabby hissed again, swatting Gavin’s arm, distressed it didn’t disappear. “Hey,” Gavin reprimanded, letting more of his hand brush against the wet fur, its hot head, flinching only when the cat went to bite him. “No, I’m trying to help you,” Gavin reminded.

Out of options and woefully unprepared to deal with a feral cat, he turned to Ace, raising a brow at his hard stare, the thin line of his lips, the way his fangs poked just outside of their confines. The drudge looked between him and the cat, the cogs in his head rusted but turning.

“You’re not helping,” Gavin said, shoving the vampire in the opposite direction, “make yourself useful and bring me a banana and a towel.”

“What?” Ace asked, inelegant, yes, be he couldn’t quite muster the strength to care. “We should be calling animal control, not treating it to a meal.”

“You’re the one who won’t be eating if you even dare to dial that number,” Gavin threatened, having a few things to say about those abusive bastards, “bring me a banana and a towel, _please_.”

“Don’t—” Ace ground his teeth, fighting the urge to chuck Gavin over his shoulder and take him as far away from here as he could. It was just a cat, dammit. “Don’t try to pull it out,” he warned, rummaging through his things to find an old umbrella. He opened the garage door part-way and ducked under. The rain that managed to hit him was old and unyielding—if he were human, it’d be more than a little uncomfortable.

“There,” Gavin said turning to the cat, “he’s gone.” The tabby looked unconvinced, plastered to the side of the metal tube with no intention of moving. “You know, stubbornness is only cute for a few minutes,” Gavin continued, pinning the cat with a stare. “I know you can’t be comfortable, all cold and miserable.”

The cat’s only response was to look at Gavin, pupils wide, with the fur that managed to dry standing in a point.

“I’m not going anywhere, so, it’s either you come to me,” Gavin said, “or I come to you.”

“ _Meow_.”

“Yes, exactly,” Gavin agreed, nodding a few times, “would you like to try again?” he asked, extending his sacrificial limb to the cat. This time it sniffed him, shoving its head into his warm palm. “There you go, there you go,” he praised, scratching the wet fur behind the tabby’s ear. “Not so bad to be loved, is it?”

“ _Meow._ ”

“I know,” Gavin said, glad when the cat relaxed into the touches, its cold body moving along Gavin’s arm, nudging its nose into his wrist. The tabby stretched, flicking its tail in the air. “You’re gorgeous,” Gavin said, running his hand down the length of the cat’s spine, ending on the flat of its back, giggling when it tumbled into itself, twisting until it resembled a snail’s shell with its tail tucked between its legs.

“Now that we’re acquainted, do you promise not to scratch my eyes out if I hold you?” Gavin asked, slow but deliberate when he brought his other hand into the mix. The tabby’s ears flicked, regarding the second hand with trepidation. It tensed when Gavin grabbed it by the scruff, securing its hind legs with one arm, whilst pressing the rest of its body into his chest with the other. Gavin was warm, more so than the average human—it may be the only reason the cat relaxed against him.

By the time they’d settled against each other, Ace returned with the towel and banana, pure disappointment forcing his features downwards, Gavin’s answering smirk doing him no favours towards forgiveness.

“Turns out you were the problem,” Gavin said, motioning to the vampire with his head, “right kitty?” The cat meowed, giving credit to Gavin’s baseless claim. “Now, to get you clean,” he continued, taking a few steps towards the entrance before he remembered the storm. Wordless, Ace opened the entirety of the garage door, holding the umbrella away from himself so Gavin could step under it. He handed him the towel careful not to make a face when the mangy critter rubbed its dirty face into the white cloth, staining it brown.

Gavin rushed towards the mansion, careful to keep a firm grip on the anxious cat. He beelined to the kitchen, using his elbows to turn on the water and adjust the tap to a comfortable temperature. With a hand still at the scruff of the cat’s neck, he lowered it into the sink, and on the gentlest setting, used the detachable hose to cut through the worst of the tabby’s dirty fur. He introduced a bit of soap after he’d done all he could with the water, marvelling at the cat’s calm.

“You’re such a good boy,” Gavin said, rubbing away the suds from the cat’s eyes, “yes you are,” he continued to coo, flipping its gums as best he could to wash out his mouth. “Oh, what pretty fangs you have,” Gavin said, surprised a stray’s gums were this pink.

Ace—who’d decided to stay out of the way but present—overheard the praise, his own fangs twinging something awful. He was grateful for Gavin’s distraction, at least pre-occupied with the bundle of fur he couldn’t tease him for his mortification.

“There,” Gavin concluded, turning off the water with wrinkly fingertips, wrapping the grey tabby in a few kitchen towels, “good as new.” He placed a kiss on its head, making a face at the wet fur. “You wouldn’t happen to have a blow dryer?” Gavin asked, turning his eyes to the vampire.

“No, but I do,” A third voice replied.

“Chloe!” Gavin greeted, his face bursting with a smile, “look what I found,” he said, thrusting the cat into view.

“Oh, how pretty,” Chloe replied, putting the box in her arms on the counter, meeting Gavin halfway to pet the cat, “where’d you find them?”

“He ran into Ace’s garage, I think it was running away from the storm,” Gavin said, drying more of the cat’s fur, “I’m not sure if he’s a stray, he’s so calm.”

“We’ll have to take him to the vet first, see if he’s microchipped,” Chloe agreed, scratching the cat behind the ears. The tabby buried his head in her warmth, enjoying the attention.

“I’ll go find the blow dryer,” Ace said, his announcement falling on deaf ears.

The drudges spent a few more minutes fawning over the cat, Gavin being the first to snap out of it. Chloe’s visit was neither unwelcomed nor unexpected, but surprising, nonetheless. “I thought you were in court,” he said, meeting her eyes.

“We ended early,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders, “something to do with the storm interfering with the video feed.”

Gavin nodded, looking around the kitchen, to the nondescript item she’d brought with her. “What’s in the box?” he asked, walking towards it.

Chloe reddened, her shyness novel and terribly entertaining. “I would’ve like to decorate it first,” she said, hesitating by the lid, her fingers tapping patterns on the top. After a sigh, she opened it, revealing the cake within, ‘ _Happy Birthday, Gavin’_ swirled into the vanilla frosting by a talented hand.

“Chloe,” Gavin gawked, placing the cat on the counter so he could appreciate her craft, “this is incredible,” he said, his mouth-watering from the hints of sweetness wafting into his nostrils.

“You think so?” she asked, feeling it lacked the fanfare most of her other cakes received, “I didn’t want to burden it with more, but it looks so bare.”

“Are you kidding?” he asked, rhetorical, “this looks amazing, Chloe thank you,” he said, bringing her into a quick hug. She returned the gesture, giggling into his shoulder.

“Next year I promise we’ll throw a party, I’ll cook you a feast, we’ll go shopping—the whole ordeal,” she said, holding Gavin at arm’s length. “You’re family now.”

“Chloe, I—” Gavin stopped talking, feeling Ace’s disapproving confusion before he saw him enter, blow dryer in one hand, the grey tabby in the other. “I don’t think we should get that carried away,” he amended, stepping out of her embrace, “this alone is perfect, any more and we’d ruin it.”

Chloe wanted to disagree, but the warning glance Ace gave her was enough to keep her quiet. She sighed, taking the liberty of grabbing a knife, and cutting into the cake, serving two generous pieces and a sliver for the vampire. Ace walked closer, laying down the cat and blow dryer on the counter, shaking his head at the offered cake. Chloe made a face, scraping it into her own portion.

Gavin split his attention between the treat and the cat, using his least-dominant hand to dry the cat while he scarfed down his present with the other. “Is there anything you can’t do, Chloe?” Gavin asked through a mouthful, he pushed his plate towards her, a silent plea for seconds.

With a bright chuckle, she obliged his request, putting the rest of the cake in the fridge. “Give it time, Gavin, soon you’ll be good at everything,” she reassured.

He paused mid-swallow, a lump forming in his throat. Did he even turn twenty-three today? Or will he be twenty-two and three-quarters for the rest of his drudge life? Looking at Chloe was answer enough, her youth a diamond that never lost its shine—never could. “I guess time is all I really have,” he said, forcing his muscles to swallow.

Chloe nodded in solidarity, her eyes round with understanding. “What are we doing with this little one?” she asked, shifting their attention back on the cat, who’d settled by Gavin, flicking its tail in a lazy wave.

“The vet first, definitely, then…” Gavin gave it some thought, his hand already having a mind of its own, running down the length of the cat’s body, through his damp fur, under his chin. “If he belongs to no one, I’d like to keep him.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Chloe beamed, already on her way to grab her keys, “I know just the vet if you’re ready,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Ace, you’re coming, right?” she added, noting how her son had locked himself within the shadows—present but unobtrusive.

“Someone’s gonna have to drive,” the vampire sighed, rain pouring its heavy insistence on the ground.

“Perfect.”

* * *

“This is a very healthy cat,” Dr. Luther DuBois said, his giant hands dwarfing the already small critter, “well-behaved for a stray too,” he added, looking into the cat’s ears, his gums, his underbelly, all while the grey tabby sat still—unbothered.

“That’s what I said,” Gavin agreed, nodding with frank excitement. He was bubbling over from the confirmation the cat was unclaimed, it meant—if everything checked out—it’d be his. “How old do you think he is?”

“About four or five years old,” Dr. Luther guessed. He gentled his hand over one of its hind legs, getting a few blood samples, and immunizing the tabby, handing him a treat for its composure. “Would you like him neutered?”

“Of course,” Gavin said, though an ancient part of him winced at the idea. If he shifted a bit, it was between him and his anatomy.

“And microchipped, I assume,” the veterinarian continued, unable to help running another hand down the tabby’s fur.

“You know it,” Gavin agreed, bouncing where he stood. As impromptu universal birthday gifts went—this was by far the best. Dr. Luther smiled, letting his assistant anesthetize the cat, whilst he led Gavin back to the waiting room, Chloe and Ace sitting where they’d left them.

“It’ll take an hour or so,” Dr. Luther announced, “in the meantime, make yourself comfortable, buy some supplies—we’ve got a pet store next door who’ll give you a discount if you tell them I sent you,” he said, motioning towards the entrance.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Gavin said, nothing but smiles for the veterinarian, who dismissed him with a wave of the hand. The drudge turned to his small group—no amount of gloomy weather able to dampen his mood. “Let’s go!” he urged, pulling Chloe by the arm, her giggles echoing down the hallway.

Ace followed a few paces behind, certain Gavin had been replaced by a facsimile in the few moments he’d left him alone. The smile on his face alone was splitting it in half, his eyes bright and animated, like he’d never known happiness until he’d seen the cat. Ace shook his head, designating himself as the cart-driver, doing anything in his power to ignore the fact he was ( _not_ ) jealous of the cat.

“And this,” Gavin said, picking out a carrying case, “and this,” he continued, grabbing two large boxes of canned food, “and this,” he said, choosing the nicest collars he could find, “and this.” At this point, Ace stopped keeping count the million and one things Gavin put in the cart, overflowing as it was with creature comforts. Gavin spared no expense, choosing by quality over quantity. Something told the vampire he didn’t even shop like that for himself.

“What about this?” Chloe suggested, holding up miniature bat wings, shooting Ace a wink. “It’s almost Halloween.”

Gavin snorted, taking it from her hands, turning it over and envisioning the furball fighting him with all its strength as he tried to buckle it to his chest. “This is fucking adorable,” he chuckled, tossing it into the cart.

By the time they made it to the cash register, the mountain of supplies threatened to topple over, the employee tasked with unloading all of it hiding her sigh with an expert smile. Gavin’s rational, math-hating brain did flips whilst the register spat out his total in quadruple digits, the basket not even half-way empty.

“Erm, Dr. Luther sent us,” Gavin said, rubbing his neck. The employee nodded, inputting the code, and Gavin waited for the grand reveal, squinting at the minimal change.

Great… _10% off_.

He sighed, reaching for his wallet, knowing he’d feel the burn in the morning. That is until Ace beat him to the punch, pulling out his black card. “Happy Birthday, Gavin,” he said, tapping his card on the reader before Gavin could protest.

Chloe had had a similar idea, though she hid her generosity back in her purse, beaming at her son with more than affectionate pride. “I’ll go get the car,” she said, leaving them to pack the supplies.

Ace ignored the burning question mark pressed against Gavin’s lips, the confused quirk in his eyebrows, the hint of gratitude blooming like a broken seed in the depths of his eyes when he finally met them.

“I can pay you back,” Gavin said after a moment of listening to nothing but the rain hit asphalt, “that was a lot of money.”

The vampire looked ahead—ozone thick in his lungs. “That would defeat the purpose of a gift,” he answered, not playing into Gavin’s hard-learned mistrust of generosity. He wasn’t quite sure how to broach the topic of ‘I have no ulterior motives’ without disturbing the settled bones of their previous misunderstanding.

“I—” Gavin clenched his jaw, knowing that arguing was pointless, that Ace wouldn’t take back his money, no matter how much he insisted. “Thank you, but don’t do it again, you pay me enough that I can take care of myself.”

Ace shifted his gaze to the man beside him, to the pout that only left his lips when he was asleep, to the eyes that’d hardened with annoyance, with indecision. Again, it was difficult to not begrudge the cat for the unadulterated happiness he brought his drudge, whilst Ace managed the complete opposite.

“Duly noted, Gavin,” Ace replied long after the conversation ended.

Chloe honked before she parked, juggling an umbrella in one hand, and her purse in the other, “Ready?” she called over the rain. The men rushed to pack the car, cramping both the trunk and backseat, leaving only enough space for Gavin to squeeze into, his arms pressed into his sides to accommodate the restriction, carrying the kennel on his lap.

“I’m glad we brought the SUV,” Chloe said, standing under the umbrella Ace held above their heads as they ducked back into the rain, returning to the clinic. “Are you gonna have enough space in your car?” she asked, hooking her arm around Gavin’s.

“Probably not,” the drudge admitted, his cheeks tinging pink, “you wouldn’t mind helping me, would you, Chloe?”

“That’s not even a question you have to ask,” she reassured, patting his hand, “I’m sure Ace wouldn’t mind helping either, right?” she added, twice not-so-subtly reminding the drudge of the vampire’s quiet existence.

“With pleasure,” Ace deadpanned, closing the umbrella once they stood beneath the covers. He opened the clinic doors, standing beside them to let Chloe and Gavin through. A small body bumped into them, letting out a startled _yip_ at the sudden block.

“Alice, careful,” a woman cautioned, rushing towards the child. It took each of them a moment to regain their bearings, to brush themselves off. “I’m sorry, she’s—” The woman stopped, her face not immediately recognizable beneath her scarf and knitted cap. “Gavin?”

“Kara?” the drudge replied, his eyes going wide.

“Hi, what a pleasant surprise,” Kara said, her hidden face brightening with her smile. She held the small child beside her, trying to stay out of the way but close enough to Gavin to remain friendly. It gave her a chance to look at the trio, at Chloe, who was just as breathtaking as she’d been the first time they met, and the obvious vampire doing his best to stay inconspicuous whilst his narrowed eyes looked over Alice’s face, her little eyes doing the same. “How have you been?” she asked, trying to keep her child even more out of view.

“Fine,” Gavin replied, looking between his two companions, “you know Chloe already,” he said, unsure—even as he continued—if he should introduce them or ignore social norms for the sake of anonymity, “and this is Ace.” _My vampire._

“Pleasure to meet you again,” Kara said, taking Chloe’s extended hand, “and a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said, pivoting towards Ace, accepting his handshake.

“Kara, no,” a tiny voice protested from below, her fingers twisting in Kara’s jacket.

“It’s okay, Alice,” Kara said, consoling the child, “we’re just being polite.” She adjusted the crate in her hand to accommodate Alice into her side. A few patrons excused themselves whilst exiting the clinic, reminding them this reunion was taking place in the most inconvenient of places.

“Sorry to cut this meeting short,” she said, always sincere with her apologies, “but I’ve got to run.” Opening an umbrella and stepping out into the rain, she turned one last time, unable to help the fleeting curiosity in her eyes as she watched the tall vampire stand just a bit closer to his drudge, his stare down with Alice calming with distance. “I hope to see you again soon, Gavin, a-and you too Chloe, if you’d like.”

“I’d be delighted,” Chloe replied, bowing her head.

Gavin nodded, frantic and panicked, knowing good and goddamn well Ace would suspect his silence to be more than a mistimed breath. _Don’t ask any question_ , he begged, turning back to the clinic entrance, _please_ , he added to his silent thoughts—for good measure.

“It seems today is full of surprises for you,” Ace noted, taking a deep breath, “I wonder what the night has in store.”

“Nothing, if I can help it,” Gavin grumbled, taking his seat in the waiting room after he’d penned his name on the sign-in sheet.

“We should do something,” Chloe insisted, “there’s this restaurant that serves _divine_ vintage wine—I’d love to try it with someone who can appreciate the food.”

“Er, no thanks,” Gavin rushed, his face bright red. The last time he and wine had anything to do with each other—well, it didn’t end _well_. “I mean, I’d rather just focus on the cat today, and then go from there. I’ll have a million more birthdays we can celebrate—it doesn’t have to be this one.”

“But it’s your _first_ drudge birthday,” Chloe reminded, “it’s something special.” She’d ignored Gavin’s awkward shifting and Ace’s narrowed eyes, subtle triggers she’d learned to pick out in court that—if used to their full advantage—would make it impossible to deny her answers to questions she’d yet to ask.

“Next year,” Gavin said, sinking into his chair, “I promise.”

“Alright,” Chloe relented with raised hands, “but I’m holding you to it.”

“I wouldn’t expect any different,” he replied, playing with his thumbs, the hem of his shirt, the slight rip in his jeans, _anything_ to not rub his neck in embarrassment. It didn’t help release his bounding pulse, the thudding of his heart, which only worked to remind him of his unfulfilled duties.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Gavin said, standing, his back stiff. At least there he could think in peace, without it being written all over his face.

Thankful for the relative silence of the private bathroom, he started the faucet, cupping the cool water into his hands and splashing it on his overheated skin. He touched the culprit of his discomfort, pressing into his neck like a man kneading dough.

A massage would work wonders on his knots, but the idea of anyone touching his neck, of seeing and knowing what went on in its depths, drove a cautious shiver down his spine. This felt private, this felt—

“Gavin.” That would be Ace, managing to both scare and annoy Gavin with only his name. “Your cat is ready.”

“I’ll be there in a minute, just…” Gavin sighed, splashing a bit more water on his face, “I’ll be there in a minute,” he repeated, getting a grip on the counter. He felt faint, the day’s excitement catching up to his empty stomach.

“Are you okay?” Ace asked, close enough to the door that his voice carried over, almost like he stood beside him.

Gavin squinted, opening the door to his overbearing, self-appointed benefactor. “I’m fine,” he grumbled, unable to focus on the vampire, “what about ‘I’ll be there in a minute’ don’t you understand?” he asked, the irritation in his voice dying, unable to shake the tunnelling of his vision, the sea in his ears.

It was reflex at this point, ignoring Gavin’s outward barbs to see the ailed creature within. Ace, with all his penchant for pontification, said nothing as he ushered them both back into the bathroom, helping Gavin lean against the counter. He busied his hands by pressing into his forehead, the depths of his neck, too distracted to notice his drudge had reached for him too, holding his lapels with pale fingers.

“Cake does not breakfast make,” Ace muttered after getting one good sniff of Gavin’s blood and finding it lacking in its most basic component. “Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a granola bar, much to Gavin’s detached amusement. “Chloe said to start carrying these things around,” Ace answered the unspoken question, “just in case your blood sugar drops.”

“She thinks of everything,” Gavin said, in muted awe. He took the granola bar, trying to take his time with each sticky chew. “Thank you,” he said, forcing it from his stubborn soul, “do you have another one?”

“Not sweet enough?” Ace said in what one might call a tease.

“For you?” Gavin began, taking his second offering, “never.”

“I’d beg to differ,” Ace murmured, unable to compel his misbehaving hands back to his side, to pry them away from Gavin’s reddened cheeks, from rubbing into the pliant skin beneath his thumb, almost as if he could wipe away the blush like rouge.

“You said my cat was ready?” Gavin asked, breaking the spell with his tinny voice. He couldn’t stand being this close to the vampire, not when every other time they’d been to a public bathroom it’d ended with an impromptu feeding session.

Ace must have thought the same thing because he pulled away in one quick motion, straightening his clothes before he opened the door. “Yes.” It was all he said before he crossed the threshold, his tight shoulders relaxing with distance.

* * *

“Have you decided on a name?” Chloe asked, many minutes after they’d left the clinic. She wouldn’t mention their impromptu break, didn’t think it appropriate to embarrass the men trying so hard to pretend it hadn’t happened.

Gavin held the cat in his arms, watching it sleep like it’d never known peace before. Before he could answer, a flash of lightning struck against the faraway land. He counted the seconds before the roil of Nature’s disturbed voice boomed throughout the sky, through their ears, their bones.

It was enough to wake the coned tabby, his eyes half-lidded and annoyed, the weather his personal vendetta. Gavin chuckled, rubbing the grey fur beneath the cat’s chin, irony his inspiration when he said, “I think I’ll call him Thunder."


	21. Home Sweet Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sensing a pattern. I REALLY like to start my chapters with dialogue, which, could be a little jarring. I've got a very eclectic style of writing. I'm sure it'll change again with each story I write, this just happens to be how I write this one.

“What the fuck?”

Gavin stood—water up to his ankles—staring in disbelief at his flooded apartment. Many other tenants felt similarly, standing as they were in their robes and sweaters, unsalvageable shoes submerged deep into the running stream draining southward. Ace and Chloe, polite as they were, didn’t comment on the water, their arms full of Thunder’s things, hesitant to put them down lest the water level rise higher.

Gavin cursed with each step, maneuvering a squirming cat and drenched jeans in the water, trying his best to remove his valuables out of their liquid coffin. “Jesus Christ,” he sighed, giving up on Thunder, letting him jump out of his grip. “How did this happen?” He looked around, overwhelm pounding an ache in his head.

“Apparently the pipes burst,” Chloe answered, already having spoken to one of the disgruntled tenants, “the rainstorm put a strain on the system—it seems the building wasn’t up to code.”

But Gavin wasn’t _really_ looking for an answer, his annoyance turning to lament as all the little items that made his house a home floated towards him. “I just bought that,” he groaned, on the verge of tears. More things plopped into the water, the universe and its unfortunate timing making fun of him.

“Chloe, could you please—”

“Already on it, Ace,” she said, dialling their emergency movers. Thunder’s things were relocated to a high point in the house, whilst the cat in question found an even higher spot, lounging on top of the fridge, unphased by the catastrophe.

Gavin disappeared into his bedroom, the water reaching halfway up his calves, lapping the edges of his bed frame when he sat down. The drudge held his head in his hands, the rushing water drowning out his stuttering heartbeat, the mounting anxiety, the unresolved tension in his spine. How the hell was he supposed to save _any_ of this?

Ace followed him, feeling his grief like an iron tether. He wasn’t sure what to say, unequipped as he was with handling natural disasters. So, he stood, unobtrusive and present, battling an ache to comfort his drudge so severe it nearly crippled him.

“What do you want?” Gavin asked, unable to shake the vampire from his radar.

“Nothing, I…” What did he want? To be close? To provide support? To whisk Gavin away like some forlorn hero hellbent on rescuing his distressed damsel? It sounded far-fetched, even to him. “Nothing.”

“I don’t know what to do, Ace,” Gavin said, turning his tearful eyes to the vampire, “and for once, I wish you’d just _tell_ me, like you do with everything else.” It was as close to asking for help as Gavin would get in his current state, and though Ace required a map to navigate Gavin’s double meanings on the _best_ of days, he understood him now—almost better than he did himself.

The vampire took the liberty to sit beside Gavin, his hand hovering over his shoulder before he decided comfort could come in many forms that didn’t have to be physical. “This is fucked, isn’t it?”

Gavin gaped at him, the tears in his eyes making it down his face just as a laugh burst from his chest. “Yeah, yeah it is,” he sobbed, the weird blend of surprise and anguish trembling in his voice, “I’ve never, I don’t even know if renter’s insurance covers this, if I’ll even get my money back if I move—I just, I can’t, I don’t”—Gavin paused for a breath, rubbing his temples at the dollar signs leaking out of his meagre savings— “this place is so shitty already I doubt it’s even worth it to fight my lease, I just…they don’t teach you this in school.”

Ace took a moment to think through Gavin’s rambling mess, picking out the most important details before he replied. “Chloe is an excellent lawyer, so if your landlord gives you any grief, she’s more than capable of settling it.” It was reassuring enough that it settled some of Gavin’s immediate anxiety, his shoulders slumping like he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone in this ordeal. “As for a place to stay, my doors are always open to you. At least until you find another permanent residence.” And just as swiftly as it’d resolved, Gavin’s anxiety spiked, his back tensing, the sour scent of apprehension flowing through his veins.

“I—” But Gavin didn’t get beyond that, Chloe’s polite knock preceding her entrance. They turned to look at her and her apologetic smile, having known the disastrous nature of Mother Earth’s weather from a very young age, when snowstorms would freeze the crops, and her small fingers would have to scavenge for scraps of rotten wood for the barest of fires.

“The movers will be here shortly,” she informed, “I’d start thinking about what you want to save, Gavin, and we’ll collect the rest when the flood has died down.”

“W-where are we moving my stuff?” Gavin asked, looking between Ace and Chloe like they’d somehow managed to plan this catastrophe.

“Wherever you’d like,” Chloe said, non-committal, “I’m sure we could rent a storage unit, or stash it at my place for convenience—it’d be closer to here.” It was almost like she knew Gavin’s source of unease and dodged mentioning it with the precision of a pin.

“I’d hate to bother you, Chloe,” Gavin sighed, ignoring the relief coating his insides.

“Nonsense,” the blonde said, waving away his concerns, “and don’t worry about North, she’d love to have you.”

“Not for dinner, I hope,” Gavin joked, which wrung a surprised laugh out of her, Ace’s glare forcing her to curtail her enthusiasm to a polite chuckle.

“She wouldn’t dare,” Chloe said, both as a reassurance to the vampire that _no, North would and could never_ , and to the drudge that he was always welcome. “It’s just a suggestion, though, there are plenty of emergency-stay hotels that could accommodate you for the few days it would take to find a new apartment.”

Gavin thought about it, now overwhelmed by the freedom of choices as opposed to his original fear of constriction. He was adamant about being independent, of having his own space, but what was the point of that space if it’d always be temporary, only _half_ of him, where the other half lived in the warm walls of Ace’s estate. He’d spent more hours snuggled in the antique cushions of the vampire’s couch than he had his own lumpy mattress—and it’d remain that way, for the foreseeable forever.

 _Conveniences required sacrifices_.

He sighed, massing his aching skull. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to move in with Ace?” Gavin said, to the instant shock of anyone overhearing his outward confession, “at least, for now,” he added, because goddamn him if he’d ever commit to one thing.

“To be honest, it didn’t even cross my mind,” Chloe said with perfect honesty, which—of course—was a total lie. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, right Ace?”

The vampire was too caught up looking at his drudge like he’d spoken in tongues to acknowledge his own name. Yes, he may have suggested it, but he knew Gavin’s reluctance to comply, his unwillingness to share more than the few hours they had to together. Gavin, for all his faults, was consistently inconsistent, which should be frustrating—and it _was_ —but then he’d never get bored.

Like solving a puzzle with no end.

“I’ll start packing,” Gavin said, dejection a hammer on the nails of his resolve. It felt like giving up, like conceding. Each article of clothing a reminder that this was happening, reality had caught up to him and beat its taunting nature into his irritation. He wondered if the feeling would ever pass, if his stubbornness would level out, soften its rounded points with the erosion of time, or would they harden, resentment taking root and growing like a vineyard in the depths of his mind.

“Only time would tell” seemed to be his only answer, which—ironically—was the problem to begin with.

Gavin only packed the essentials, his keepsakes, things he’d brought with him out of nostalgia rather than practicality. Yet, even with all his earthly possessions sitting on his bed, it did nothing to drive away the feeling of uncertainty that this was all an elaborate dream his overworked and sleep-deprived mind had concocted for its own amusement.

“What a birthday, huh?” he said to anyone who’d listen as the emergency movers walked in and out of his apartment, silent and efficient despite having no direction from Gavin. Thunder had made his way down at some point and Gavin took the opportunity to snuggle him into his arms, minding the cone around his neck. “At least you were worth it,” he said, Thunder’s answering meow bringing a smile to his face.

“Is this all we’re taking?” Chloe asked, looking around the apartment, its receding water, the damaged furniture, how it’d be a nightmare to clean up, and with that carpet, it’d never be the same again.

“It’s all I have,” Gavin replied, ignoring the larger items, “that hasn’t drowned, anyway.” Chloe nodded, giving the movers the new address.

Ace, who’d done an expert job at staying out of the way, moved back into view holding a plate with a simple peanut butter and nothing sandwich. “You were out of jelly,” he said as if that was the reason for Gavin’s questioning brow.

“Thanks for reminding me, Ace,” Chloe said, wading through the water in her haste towards the fridge, “we can’t let the food go to waste.”

Whilst she busied herself packing away Gavin’s pantry, the drudge used his free hand to eat the lacklustre sandwich. Doughy bread stuck to the roof of his mouth, cementing itself further with the sticky peanut butter, reminding Gavin that without power, Ace couldn’t have toasted it even if he’d wanted to.

But looking at his effort, at his willingness to try and feed him despite the circumstances, it made it the best goddamned sandwich he’d ever had.

“Thank you,” Gavin said after his last swallow.

“We’ll make something else when we get home,” Ace said, realizing his mistake a half-second too late, “m-my home—the house.” The vampire blushed, which was rare enough. It bypassed Gavin’s surprise and went straight to his own cheeks, warming with more than second-hand embarrassment.

“Are you two ready?” Chloe asked, hauling four bags of groceries in her arms. Ace, grateful for the chance to excuse himself, took the load out of her hands, already out of the door before she could thank him. “Are you ready?” Chloe asked again, rubbing a hand along Gavin’s arm, her smile plaintive and understanding.

Despite his best efforts, this apartment was never his home—it was a place that held his bed and things. If he wanted to feel at home, he’d visit his mom. He supposed he wouldn’t miss it, but he found himself a bit nostalgic for the lazily patched spot of mold on his ceiling, for the pipes that sputtered and spat before they trickled their lukewarm liquid over his hands, for the heater that did a better job cooling down the place than its namesake would suggest.

“You’re deep in thought,” Chloe said, “care to let me in?” she asked, polite in her intrusion.

“I was just thinking about how annoyed he’s gonna get when I leave my shit all over the place,” Gavin began, a smile tugging at his lips, “I don’t have his penchant for neatness.”

“That’s quite alright,” she reassured, “I didn’t teach him to clean up after himself for nothing,” she continued, her smile brightening. 

Gavin chuckled, shaking his head. “You did teach him well, Chloe, better than anyone ever could,” he said, his heart beating at odd intervals in his chest, “I’m sure his patience comes from you.”

“He’s always had to be a patient child,” Chloe corrected, weaving her arm into Gavin’s, leading them outside of the apartment, “playing second-fiddle to his older brother forced him to develop a level of quietude seldom seen in vampires twice his age.” Chloe’s smile faltered, remembering Mrs. Richardson’s severe face, the line of disappointment that cemented itself every time Ace did anything she believed irredeemable. “A shadow, visible yet unobtrusive.” 

“Is that why he hates his brother?” Gavin asked, stroking the underside of Thunder’s chin.

“I don’t believe he hates Connor,” Chloe said, though outstanding evidence did point otherwise, “but I do think he felt abandoned by him.” Chloe paused, watching her steps as they descended downwards, the water muting her heels. “It’s uncommon for vampires to have more than one child, not for the lack of trying of course, but it’s just not as easy for them to conceive as it is for humans,” she revealed, slowing her progression the closer they got to the entrance. “Ace was a bit of a surprise, to say the least, and being as old as she was, Mrs. Richardson didn’t do well with surprises.”

Gavin could empathize, if only a portion of it.

“I would like to believe she loved him, as a mother is compelled to with any child, but I could not condone her treatment of him,” Chloe said, looking past the blacked-out windows of her SUV, to the vampire sitting dutifully in the driver’s seat, “so you’ll have to excuse me if I have a bit of a bias.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s more your son than anyone else’s,” Gavin said, just to reinforce the fact.

“And you went and stole him from me,” she joked, slapping his arm, “how rude.”

Gavin couldn’t respond, not with the way his cheeks reddened, and the blockage in his throat returned with a vengeance. She let him go, ducking out of the rain and into the passenger side of her car, letting Gavin fend for himself.

* * *

“Home, sweet home,” Chloe hummed when the last of Gavin’s stuff walked through the front door. It didn’t even cover half the foyer, which put into perspective just how big Ace’s home was in relation to Gavin’s things. “I’ll start dinner, you two unpack,” she said, trading her wet heels for house slippers, floating away before either of them replied. Gavin dropped Thunder, watching him scamper off the opposite direction, giving credibility to his namesake.

They stood, too far to be friendly, too close to be strangers, reality once again making its acquaintance.

“Where, um, where would you like your things?” Ace asked because it was one thing lending Gavin his guest bedroom for a night, and another entirely when it’d be permanent. _Semi_ -permanent.

“It’s your house, Ace,” Gavin said, rubbing his neck, “I don’t care where they go.” He managed to answer after the vampire pinned him with a stare. Thunder ran back into the room, just to bolt in the opposite direction—an aimless bundle of chaos.

“I’m gonna go set up some food for him,” Gavin said, grabbing a nearby box of cat food and chasing down his wayward pet.

It left Ace in the middle of his entrance with the monumental task of deciding what he could and couldn’t transport to Gavin’s new room. He started with the most obvious first: his clothes. They’d been thrown haphazardly into a few garbage bags, protecting them from the worst of the water’s damage. The same couldn’t be said for Gavin’s shoes, which would need to be dried before they could be worn again. He left those for later, taking the stairs two at a time.

Dumping his garments onto the bed revealed a common thread with all of Gavin’s things, that—save for a few obvious items—he didn’t have much, and what he _did_ have was well-worn. His eyes zoomed into the cream-coloured sweater, the one he assumed Gavin’s mom had made with love, the one he’d soiled with his blood. There’d been an attempt at correcting Ace’s mistake, but it’d been half-passable at best. He took it in his hands, the fabric yielding against his fingers. Despite the artificial fragrance of laundry detergent and hints of hydrogen peroxide, it still smelled like Gavin, his blood never losing its potency despite eons of erosion.

It may be psychological now that Ace thought about it.

He put the garment down, Gavin’s footsteps alerting him of his presence with enough time to save himself embarrassment. “Are these really all the clothes you have?” Ace asked, just in case Gavin asked why he still stood there when there were more things to carry upstairs. 

“Yes,” Gavin said, trying not to let Ace’s words feel like an insult, “not all of us were born with money,” he continued, dropping his bag of toiletries.

Ace raised a brow, busying his hands by folding and packing away his clothes. “We should see about fixing that,” he said as an afterthought.

“I don’t need more things,” Gavin replied, an annoyed lilt to his tone.

“Clothes are not things, Gavin, especially good clothes,” Ace said, running a finger through the polyester-cotton blend of a faded tee. “Would you rather have things that last, but cost more, or cycle through ten of the same shirts because they were on sale?”

“Again,” Gavin retorted with a poignant stare, “you do what you can with the resources you have.”

“And if you had more resources?”

Gavin narrowed his eyes, killing the blush that threatened to peek over his collar. “I can buy my own clothes.” It was said with enough finality that it should’ve ended the conversation right then and there, but Ace was determined now, unwilling—or unable—to resist his need to _provide_ Gavin with everything he needed, knowing (knowing, goddammit) that it was nothing more than an evolutionary quirk, ancestral DNA, hormones!

He was sure it was made worse by Gavin being in his home, permanently. Semi—

“I’m not a charity case,” Gavin said, crossing his arms, “so, whatever it is you’re thinking about, you can stop, because I don’t need more things, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t _try_ to get me more things.” Gavin dropped his head, chin to chest, the day’s events winding him. “Enough I feel like I owe you one for everything you’ve done.”

“You don’t,” Ace said, taking a half-step forward, “you don’t owe me anything,” he rephrased with enough conviction he hoped would convince the drudge. “If anything, I owe you.”

Gavin’s eyes snapped up, disbelief coating every line creasing his face. That was a joke, truly.

“I—” Ace stopped, knowing that if he continued, he’d be baring himself to the drudge, opening the cavity of his chest and exposing his insides in a gruesome display of solidarity. He couldn’t walk his words back, wouldn’t know how to react if Gavin ridiculed him for his honesty. But he had to try _something_ to get the drudge to understand. “I need you more than you need me,” Ace said, managing a few steps forward. “In every sense of the word, I can no longer live without you.”

There was a pause, as if the words had to seep in the floor’s woodgrain before the conversation could resume. Ace nearly bit his tongue to keep it from overstepping its boundaries, but he couldn’t do more than grind it against his teeth.

“Did, erm, did you hit your head on the way up or?” Gavin asked, eyes fleeing around the room, his heartbeat overcome with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. It settled deep in his scars, deeper still in his soul, where he treasured the confession even if he couldn’t admit it. “You’re hungry, that’s it right?” he asked, stepping away from the vampire’s overwhelming stare, “let me take a shower, and then I’ll feed you, just don’t—”

“Gavin,” Ace interrupted, tasting his panic like it belonged to him.

“Yes?” the drudge replied, standing within the bathroom’s threshold, holding himself against the wall for support. There was a buzzing in his stomach, unlike the one that gripped him when he was about to throw up. This jumped towards his chest, floating back down the more he thought about Ace’s words. The feeling didn’t resolve, so neither could he.

“Please let me know if you need anything else,” Ace said after a deep breath, “we can finish moving your things later.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gavin agreed, waiting until the vampire was well out of earshot to let go of his breath. He shut the bathroom door, resting his head on the frame, his eyes closing out of their own volition.

 _I need you more than you need me_.

It’d been tattooed to the front of Gavin’s mind, there was no getting rid it of, Ace might’ve well said he’d be spending his summers in Miami with the way his confession had bowled him over. He was warm _everywhere_ , the quivering feeling in his stomach never dissipating. Pressing into it didn’t do him any favours, if anything, it brought attention to the fact that maybe a part of him had needed to hear those words for a _long_ time now.

_I need you more than you need me._

Gavin giggled at the reminder, clamping a hand over his mouth, looking at his reflection like it’d judge him if given the chance. It didn’t stop his blush from spreading down his chest, wrapping around his ribs like a well-intentioned hug, couldn’t dare contain the fluttering in his stomach kicking up a fuss, a hornet’s nest disturbed and shoved directly into his core.

_I need you…_

Gavin shivered, unsure if he’d ever get over it. I mean, Ace _needs_ him, which, if English wasn’t failing him, went leagues beyond wanting someone. Which…Which…meant nothing outside of their feeds.

The realization popped his balloon in an instant, his hands balling to fists, the outside world crashing back into him like a freight train. Ace needed his blood, _not him_.

There was a difference.

And wouldn’t you know it, he’d almost forgotten there _was_ a difference.

* * *

Gavin bit into his dinner like it owed him money, chewing around Chloe’s delicious food with unbridled annoyance. The blonde sat across from him, gently regarding him before she reached for his hand, wrongfully assuming his ire lay in today’s unfortunate catastrophe. He flinched out of her touch, burying his unattended fist under his lap.

“There’s still a few more hours left of your birthday,” Chloe said, moving past the awkwardness with practiced ease, “given the circumstances, are there any burning desires I could help fulfill?”

Gavin paused mid-chew, thinking it over. There were many things he could ask for, both material and abstract, but now his mind drew a blank. “I think I’ll be okay,” he replied, returning to his plate, its contents nearly finished.

“I’ll start looking at apartments tomorrow,” Chloe said with what she hoped was bright optimism, “you can come with me if you’d like.”

“I—” Gavin stopped, hating how his immediate reaction was to reject the suggestion. Some part of him, no matter how small, already felt at ease in the large home, that lurking presence that sat in the back of his mind more of a companion than a ghost. To be rid of it already did nothing but stir the stilled dirt. “Thank you, Chloe, I’m sure you’ll find something incredible.” 

“You flatter me, as always,” she said, finishing her food with a final thought, “I supposed it’d be more appropriate to let you get your bearings first, I just,” she sighed, pointing a delicate stare in Gavin’s direction, “I _know_ you don’t want to be here, you’ve told me as such.”

Gavin’s cheeks felt warm, the reminder wringing embarrassing guilt out of his jumbled emotions. It made it difficult to explain himself, to separate his wants from the drudge’s trapped in every decision he made. “I should be okay for a week at least,” Gavin mumbled, averting his gaze, “I’m sure Ace and I can keep from tearing each other apart in the meantime.”

“The house is big enough,” Chloe agreed, hiding her chuckle behind a polite hand. “I am sorry this happened, Gavin,” she said, sincerity coming easy to her, “and just in case you ever need me, don’t forget my doors are always open.”

“I know,” Gavin said, nodding once. He stood when she did, taking his plate to the sink, just to have her wash them despite his protests. ‘It’s your birthday,’ she countered, slicing them a piece of cake to emphasize her point.

“You’ll let him get away with murder if you keep reminding him,” Ace had said, teleporting into the kitchen. Thunder hung from his hands, his coned head looking unenthused. Gavin stood to take him, supporting his dangling legs first.

“I don’t see that as such a bad thing,” Chloe defended, sneaking a wink at Gavin. She didn’t linger after that, giving each of them a farewell kiss on the cheek, rubbing Thunder behind the ears before she left.

Gavin waited until he couldn’t hear her car anymore, turning to the vampire with an inquisitive brow. “Is he giving you trouble?” he asked, the furball in his arms purring his innocence.

Ace looked between them, half-teasing when he said, “Not any more than you do,” walking back to the common room.

Gavin sputtered after him, intent on making a case for both himself and his cat, but what could he say to absolve himself from his most egregious of crimes? So, he doubled down on his troublemaking skills, petulant pout already in place. “Then it shouldn’t be too difficult to handle two of me.”

“Heaven forbid there’s ever _two_ of you,” Ace said, giving a fake shudder. He went to his bookshelf, running his fingers over the spines of books he’d yet to read, wondering which one would keep his attention for the night. Ace paused, his hands lingering on an old fairy tale, the kind Chloe used to read to him when he couldn’t rest. He’d practically drag her out of bed just so they could sit by the fire. She’d had more of her accent at the time, giving each story the surreal and fantastical quality it deserved. He didn’t hold many things in his childhood close, each memory seemed to be tainted by the overbearing force of his parents, of their inevitable neglect. But he held the stories close, just as he did Chloe, even if at this point it felt like his mother figure had found a new chick to care for.

“I’m sure you’d do fine,” Gavin said, letting Thunder jump out of his arms just to watch him run towards Ace and rub his coned head into his slacks. “See, one of me already likes you.” The vampire sighed, bending low to pick up the cat by its shoulders, its body stretching like putty.

“Not like that,” Gavin reprimanded, supporting Thunder’s legs, scooping them into Ace’s arms. “They don’t like being dangled.” He said this as he rubbed the cat behind the ears, under his chin, pet him down his back, all while he purred his acquiescence into the vampire’s chest. “Always support the bottom.” 

“He’s like a little motor,” Ace said, the animal’s body heat melding with his. Apart from the purely wild scent of ‘cat,’ his fur held flavourful undertones of cinnamon and mint, their owner in the process of yet again stepping closer to rub the critter around its neck, checking the cone’s fit.

“I’m sure he’s loving the attention,” Gavin cooed, “probably never had a home, maybe spent his whole life scavenging, waiting for the easy life, someone to feed him every day, and scratch his pretty little ears.” Ace watched Gavin do just that, Thunder’s responding purr even louder than before.

“I think you’ve fallen in love, Gavin,” Ace said, meeting his drudge’s startled stare with an amused smile, “with the cat.”

“Shut up,” Gavin said, stepping away after Ace’s comment made clear how close they’d gotten. “I was raised with cats, so this is just second-nature to me.”

“Of course,” the vampire replied, letting Thunder jump out of his arms. This time he scampered off into the hallway, his little body nothing but a grey dot in the distance. Ace moved from his bookshelf, taking a seat by the chess table, unsure if Gavin would follow or retire to bed.

To his quiet pleasure, his drudge followed, taking a lazy seat across from him, moving his favourite pawn forward two steps. “You gonna let me win again?” Gavin teased, studying Ace’s moves before deciding his own, “there’s still a few minutes left of my birthday.”

“Would you honestly be satisfied if I did?” Ace asked, having contemplated it, even if briefly.

Gavin sighed, crossing his arms. “No,” he ground out, knowing the truth the moment he’d asked the question, “but it would be nice to win, even if only once.”

“You’ve got plenty of time to try,” Ace said, capturing Gavin’s last knight.

“I guess I do,” Gavin said, moving his bishop to capture Ace’s Queen, his pawn retaliating and taking the bishop, just for Gavin’s King to do the same.

Ace looked at the board, his brows furrowed. He went to move a piece but found himself stuck, deciding it was better to draw than outright lose. “Congratulations, Gavin, you’ve got me in a stalemate,” the vampire said, holding out his hand for the other to shake.

“I—what?”

“You might be closer to a win than you thought,” Ace said, tasting Gavin’s tentative elation through their handshake, feeling the warmth of his blush in his chest.

It almost made losing worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Gavin hurts himself by overthinking. How novel. -_-


	22. Reminiscing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Waking up should’ve been a familiar ordeal, but when Gavin’s heart leapt through his ribcage and into the darkness, it’d felt like he’d reset his humanity. It took him a moment to regain his bearings, his surroundings strange and far too large, his room stretching into infinity, the sound of a distant grandfather clock a hammer on his skull.

Panic, pure and acute, filtered through his system, and it took every ounce of strength to fight his sympathetic response. It wasn’t until he calmed, until his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, that he realized why everything felt foreign.

He wasn’t home anymore, wouldn’t be for a while.

Gavin sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, through the sleep lingering in his eyes, shielding the yawn overtaking his mouth. He slumped back into the pillows, pressing a fist against his heart. It calmed some, taking its sweet time coming down to a near-normal level.

When it looked like sleep had eluded him at last, he got out of bed, far more interested in getting the day started now that his stomach growled its emptiness. He padded towards the bathroom, shivering when the cold tile met his feet. Making quick work of the faucet, he brushed his teeth, warming up with each stretch of his limbs. It didn’t take long anymore, not when extra blood chugged along his veins.

He managed a shower before his hunger collapsed on itself, towelling his damp hair on his way downstairs, the faint whiff of breakfast incentivizing him to go faster. At this point, and at this hour, he wasn’t sure who to expect in the kitchen. Chloe had taken to coming only when her supernatural ability for anticipation told her to. He wasn’t sure if it was his presence that told her to stay clear or someone else’s insistence. His theory was so far-fetched it was better to leave well enough alone.

“Morning,” Gavin said, dislodging the few gravel pieces still stuck in his throat from sleep. Ace was in the process of cleaning the last set of dishes, his sleeves rolled up high enough to show his forearms. He wouldn’t have made note of them if it weren’t for the multiple red marks littering their surface, long streaks nearly breaking the skin in two. Gavin’s curiosity got the better of him, compelling him forwards to trace the lines with a delicate finger. Ace tensed but didn’t move away, his own curiosity the culprit for his hesitation.

“What happened?” Gavin asked, though considering who’d they’d rescued yesterday it could only be one thing. What Gavin didn’t expect was Ace’s blush, doubly obvious when contrasted against his pale skin.

“He’s quite the jumper,” the vampire began after clearing his throat, “I may or may not have been play-testing his feather wand.”

Gavin’s concerned frown morphed into a self-satisfied smirk, his eyes crinkling with mischief and the slightest hint of relief. “And you wanted to call animal control,” Gavin reminded, jabbing his pointer finger into Ace’s bicep.

“I’m still not sure that wasn’t the best option,” Ace groused if only to get a rise out of Gavin. It just worked to amuse him, his smirk growing to a wide, shit-eating grin, one that wouldn’t look half-bad were it not for the connotation associated with it.

“Admit it,” Gavin said, bumping their shoulders, “you like Thunder.”

Ace didn’t comment, rolling down his sleeves once he’d dried his hands, pushing Gavin’s breakfast in his direction to shut him up. “Eat.”

Gavin bit into his food, still sporting a bright smile. “I’ll clip his nails today,” he said through an inelegant mouthful, “no use getting hurt when you’re trying to play.” Gavin ended his point with another bite, nearly finished with his breakfast in his haste to fill the void.

* * *

He would’ve made good on his promise too if he could find the small creature.

“Thunder,” Gavin called for the umpteenth time, shaking a box of treats, “kitty where are you?” He’d circled the first floor once, getting nothing but dead ends and no traces of his cat. Sooner or later he’d need to commission a map of this place.

“Still no sign of him?” Ace asked when they reconvened in the foyer, his own hands filled with another set of treats.

“No,” Gavin grumbled, “can’t you sniff him out or something?”

“I’m not a dog, Gavin,” Ace retorted, having the decency to keep his offence to a minimum. It wouldn’t do him any favours to remind the drudge that only worked with _him_. “And besides, what I can smell only tells me that cat’s been in every room he could squeeze his body into.”

“Where haven’t we checked?” Gavin asked, taking a deep breath. Knowing what he knew about cats, that bundle of fur either went high or found a dark nook, and lucky for him this house was nothing but high places and dark nooks.

“On the first floor?” Ace asked, clarifying Gavin’s question. After his nod, Ace continued, retracing his mental steps. “There’s the pool and the conservatory.”

“We’re leaving the pool for last,” Gavin said, not looking forward to wrangling a soaked cat— again. “Lead the way.”

The conservatory was tucked behind two large French doors in the back of the house. It looked more like a sanctuary, with its overabundance of trees clinging to every glass panel, soaking up the sun whilst effectively blocking it. They crossed a small bridge, the creek beneath it home to a few species of fish, the most noticeable being koi, their orange and white bodies standing out amongst the green.

“What are you, a prince?” Gavin asked, stuck between disbelief and child-like awe. “Got a hidden castle in here or something?”

“To lock you away, no doubt,” Ace replied, monotone and unenthused.

“Buy me dinner first,” Gavin said, throwing a wink so quick if you blinked, you’d miss it. Ace’s brows came together, his features pinching until they were one confused point concentrating in the centre of his face, the lemon he must’ve inhaled tasting more like radioactive fall-out than its acidic counterpart.

“Thunder!” Gavin called, already moving on, “where are you, baby?” He tried not to run, cognizant of the vampire behind him and his evolutionary impulses, but the farther into the conservatory they ventured, the higher his anxiety spiked, morphing his steps to strides.

They were nearing the end of the room, and as impressive as it was, it wasn’t endless, and Thunder was still unaccounted for. Gavin was ready to call it quits and start on the second level of the house, that is until he heard the startled meow of one grey-bodied feline, its voice coming from above.

“Goddammit, Thunder,” Gavin sighed, his cat returning his frustrated stare with wide-eyed nonchalance. “Well, come down, it’s not that high,” he said, motioning towards the ground. Thunder did no such thing, licking his paw instead.

“Thunder, come on,” Gavin beckoned again, holding out his arms, “I’ll catch you,” he promised, looking intently at the feline.

“ _Meow._ ”

“Yes, meow, now come down please,” Gavin implored, stomping a foot.

“I do believe you’ve met your match,” Ace said, finding this all quite amusing. His drudge pinned him with a stare, his grey eyes surly and annoyed with his input.

“I’d climb up there and get him, but I don’t wanna spook him,” Gavin said after a much-needed breath, “do you have a ladder or a stepping stool tall enough to reach?”

“I may,” Ace said with a nod, “but it’s probably buried in storage somewhere,” he said contemplating his options and finding he liked them less as time passed. Looking between them and the cat, he calculated the distance, pinching the bridge of his nose when he realized that, yeah, it _might_ just work.

“What are you doing?” Gavin asked after Ace had positioned himself in front of him and bent at the knees, his stance wide, feet planted on the floor, looking like one of his trees.

“Get on my shoulders,” he replied with such conviction Gavin nearly believed him.

“What?”

“Get on m—”

“No, I heard you, I just,” Gavin grew flustered, clenching his fists to calm the shakes. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Ace asked, relaxing his stance.

“Not really, but.” Gavin couldn’t explain the blush on his cheeks any more than he could the shyness coursing through his limbs. If he were more prone to introspection, he might’ve called himself self-conscious.

“I won’t drop you if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ace said, killing the ironic smile threatening to burst forth. He’d turned around at Gavin’s hesitation, Thunder content with staying put whilst they decided how to tackle his predicament.

“I’m—” Gavin heaved a hard sigh, setting his jaw, “just turn around.” The vampire complied, returning to his squat, feeling Gavin approach just by his body heat alone. At the first press of his foot against his thigh, Ace made himself immobile against Gavin’s wriggling. There were a few trial and errors, his drudge fighting gravity and physics as he tried to hoist his other leg over his shoulders.

By the time Gavin was successful, he was out of breath, steadying his hands in Ace’s hair. He startled at the grip on his knees, his heart on his tongue, on the floor if he let it out anymore. Their first step forward had Gavin bunching his fists in Ace’s hair, the vampire’s responding hiss reminding him there was someone beneath all those curls.

“I’m not gonna drop you,” Ace reminded, balancing on one foot just to prove a point, “if it makes you feel any better, you don’t really weigh much.” He said this, hoping it’d distract Gavin enough for him them to get closer to the cat, whose tail now twitched with interest.

“I’m nearly two-hundred pounds,” Gavin said, disbelief making him scoff.

“And I can carry ten times that,” Ace revealed, feeling Gavin’s shock in the way he tensed against him, his legs locking in place, breath stopped for just a moment.

“Are all vampires that strong?” Gavin asked, the pit of his stomach growing queasy with the thought. So, all those times Ace had lifted the unhinged doors to his old car or carried him to bed—which admittedly was only _twice_ —or held his arm during their feeds, he was only using a fraction of his strength. One misplaced pat on the shoulder and he’d have split Gavin in half.

He shivered, unable to quell it any more than he could his breath.

“There are ranges,” Ace said, scenting his drudge’s curious fear, the skin on his neck prickling where Gavin’s shiver shifted him closer. “But most of us fall on that average.” His intentions to settle Gavin’s worries may have sprung new ones, as his reassurances that he was strong enough to carry him wasn’t the saving grace he’d originally thought. He forgot humans were as much predators as they were prey, natural selection breeding a race that both feared and revered incredible feats of strength.

Ace said nothing else whilst bringing them closer to Thunder, the cat finally within arms’ reach. He looked ready to bolt, but Gavin beat him to the punch, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, supporting his legs against his chest. “Bad kitty,” he reprimanded, scratching Thunder’s coned chin, “don’t do that again.”

“I’m sure he’ll take that to heart,” Ace said, moving them away from the tree’s edge, “we’ll have to keep the doors shut from now on.”

“We’ve yet to cat-proof the place,” Gavin agreed, wriggling on Ace’s shoulders when it looked like the vampire wasn’t gonna put him down. “Hey, let me get off.”

“And how will you do that whilst carrying the cat?” Ace asked, stopping in his tracks regardless.

“I don’t know,” the drudge admitted, his options limited, “but I’m sure you and your freakish strength will figure something ou—hey!” The sudden unseating silenced Gavin’s quip. There was a brief second where he thought Ace had dropped him and—in retrospect—he may have deserved some of it, but no, the vampire held him by the waist, keeping him at eye-level, which meant their six-inch height difference forced his feet to dangle mid-air.

“You’re supposed to support my bottom,” Gavin grumbled, his own example snuggled deep in his arms.

The vampire sighed, putting Gavin on the ground before he let him go, clasping his hands behind his back before he did something ridiculous. Like, take Gavin up on his offer.

* * *

Ace was ten wires deep connecting the car’s radio, Gavin leaning over the dash through the open window cover, perched on the hood like an oversized ornament. They’d cat-proofed the mansion, with a few concessions, of course. The reality of those high-ceilings and invisible crannies eluded Gavin, and he had a feeling they’d be spending the rest of the month discovering just how slinky Thunder could be.

But idle hands and whatnot led them back to their unfinished project, Gavin more of a vocal observer than a participant at this point, which was _fine_. They’d have plenty of time to fix something else.

“So, like, realistically, you could lift this whole car?” Gavin mused, leaning his head on his hand. He watched Ace’s muscles tense, the same ones that could crush his skull with one not-so-tight squeeze. The fear that followed that image was riddled with an anxious thrill, conflicting pathways converging and escalating his heart rate regardless.

“Given the chance,” Ace replied, keeping his eyes buried in his work.

“Are you that strong everywhere?” Gavin asked, prompted by morbid curiosity, “could you withstand the weight of a small crowd on your back?” he continued, not waiting for an answer, “what about your legs, aren’t legs normally stronger than arms? How come it takes you so long to catch up to me?”

At this Ace looked up, a flash of spite crossing his eyes. He corralled it back into his soul, knowing Gavin wasn’t employing his usual crassness to be cruel, rather it was the opposite if his questioning gaze was anything to go by. “There’s attenuation at play,” the vampire began after a self-settling sigh, “think of your own strength, you don’t go petting your cat at full-force.” It was a reminder that should’ve been obvious.

“But…that’s a lot to try and control.”

“We’re not children, Gavin,” Ace tried again, nearly finished with the first set of wires, “it’s automatic, if I need to use more strength, then I add it.”

Gavin looked unsatisfied, chewing on a question before he gave up, rolling around on his back so he was flat against the hood. “Still doesn’t answer why you don’t catch up to me quicker.”

If Ace had the foresight to leave well enough alone, he might’ve saved himself the trouble by not speaking. Yet— “Is that something you want me to do?” he asked, meeting Gavin’s upside-down eyes, “or are afraid I will do?”

“Neither, if that’s even an answer,” Gavin replied through a rock in his throat.

“Then it’s settled.”

* * *

Unfortunately for the vampire, it wasn’t as easy as that. He was halfway through feeding, Gavin well into a pleasant slumber when he startled, a gush of blood pooling into Ace’s unprepared mouth as a result. Taking a moment to readjust himself, and make sure he hadn’t ruined the upholstery, he was met with Gavin’s odd stare, half-lidded with sleep.

“You could break my arm right now, couldn’t you?”

Ace gaped like a fish, his grip loosening on said arm. The distressing image floated through his mind, his eyes sweeping over the length of Gavin’s limb just to make sure he hadn’t done what’d been implied he could do. He took one big gulp of air, resetting his pinched features.

“I only meant for my strength to be a comfort whilst you were perched on my shoulders,” the vampire said, feeling out of breath, “if I’d have known it would’ve been such a sticking point, I would’ve said nothing.”

At the very least, Gavin had the decency to keep his mouth shut, the feel-good feed hormones draining through the vampire’s sour mood. Ace said nothing more, disappearing through the open door, leaving an air of discontent behind.

Gavin, waking up but just enough to drag himself through the hundreds of stairs to his room, couldn’t help feeling he could use a fraction of Ace’s strength.

* * *

“I’m going back to the apartment to get my mail,” Gavin announced to Ace’s back early the next morning, “then I’ll stop at the post-office to change my address,” he continued, some unknown force compelling him to dictate his whereabouts. Maybe he didn’t want the vampire to worry. “I’ve already fed Thunder, so if he starts making a fuss it’s not because of that.”

“Morning to you too, Gavin,” Ace replied, pushing a bowl of oatmeal towards the drudge, “eat first.”

Gavin thought of refusing, not equipped with the hunger that grappled him most mornings, then thought again to yesterday, and the blush that filled his cheeks was enough to compel him into compliance. “Uninspired today, aren’t we?” he joked, finding the simple meal to be a better alternative to the usual feast.

“I’m using your groceries,” Ace replied with half a smile, “so if anyone is uninspired, it’d be you.”

Gavin chuckled, entertaining his mouth with the oats. He made a face, the thick sludge sticking to his throat like glue. It wasn’t bad, but it felt more like a school breakfast than it did a home-cooked meal. “I think I’ll pass,” he said, leaving the bowl.

“Something wrong with it?” Ace asked, looking ready to taste it despite having no reference for how it _should_ taste.

“No, just…” Gavin stopped, looking between his untouched meal and the vampire’s raised brows, “I guess I’m not as hungry as I should be.” It’d happened before, but two’s only a coincidence. At three he’ll start worrying.

“This has been stressful for you,” Ace agreed, saving the oatmeal for later, “when should I expect your return?”

“Noon?” Gavin guessed, rubbing his neck, “maybe after,” he turned halfway before he hesitated, “I’ll call if anything else comes up.”

“And I’ll be here,” Ace said, feeling the strain of small talk stretch his patience. Gavin was using his own tactic against him—pretend it didn’t exist and maybe then it’d go away.

Gavin left then, sighing into the small space between him and his steering wheel. The ride back felt longer than any he’d taken, he found himself staring at the minutes as they passed by, counting every tree until he’d run out of memory. Even the music that filled the air droned on.

His cells burst with anticipation the moment he left his car, wading through the muggy carpets towards the mailing office. The old receptionist greeted him with a tired smile, dehumidifiers surrounding her like an army. He waved back, though it was more of a flick of his fingers, and located his mailbox. Heaving a sigh of relief, he was glad to find his things had survived the flood. His mother’s present sat in the centre cocooned by junk mail and old bills.

Leaning against the cold metal, Gavin went about ripping into the padded envelope, smiling at his mother’s meticulous packaging and her attention to protective detail. Unwrapping the square showed it to be a picture frame, the letter on top blocking the photo beneath. He lifted it, his good humour evaporating like mist.

There, as if no time had passed at all, sat his father, his mother, and him, grouped together for Gavin’s sixth birthday picture. It’d been one of the last good memories they had together, Gavin, with his wide grin and crinkled eyes, his mother’s shut, mouth open with pleasant surprise as his dad swiped frosting down her nose.

Gavin shoved the frame back in the envelope, taking the letter and opening it, ignoring the slight tremble in his fingers. The card was quite thin compared to its casing, the picture of a cat with remnants of cake around its mouth had a speech bubble wishing him a _Purrfect_ Happy Birthday.

He snorted, something like soured happiness welling in his eyes. Hesitating a beat, he let the moment pass before opening the rest of his present, twenty dollars flitting to the floor in the perfect embodiment of a surprise. He ignored it for a second, reading his mother’s chicken scratch.

 _Gavin,_ _I was cleaning out one of my piles of pictures—you know the one Kitty likes to knock over? —and I found this. I know some memories are better left in the past, but I’m sure you can agree that a bit of joy can be immortalized despite the sorrow. You asked me once if I’d ever forgiven your father, and I’m sure you’ll ask me again someday. Jury’s out on that one, unfortunately, but I do know this._

_I love you._

_You’re my son, and I’m incredibly proud of you. Don’t ever forget that._

_Love, Mom_

_P.S. Kitty and Catie say hi, though I’m not so sure they weren’t just asking for seconds._

Gavin pressed the collar of his shirt to the corner of his eyes, wicking the tears before they threatened to fall further down his face. He stooped low for his twenty, closing the locker with care, and holding his present to his chest, treasuring the bittersweet memory.

* * *

“Wow, it actually looks like someone lives here now,” A voice said over Ace’s distracted shoulder. He tensed before he had a chance to sniff out the scent, tensing for a different reason then.

“Hello, North,” the vampire greeted, turning to meet her.

“Be nice,” Chloe reprimanded, pointing a finger at her wife, “ _he’s trying his best._ ” She said so in Old French, the dialect long forgotten save for the moments when she and North felt nostalgic.

“Where’s our tragic companion?” North asked, dialling back her teases a percentage. One good whiff told her the drudge wasn’t _here_ , here, but his presence was everywhere, most noticeably in Ace’s bloodstream and the cat strutting on the edge of the dining table.

“Are you referring to Gavin or the cat?” the vampire replied, tone curious. At the mere insinuation of his being, Thunder meowed, earning an affectionate pat out of Chloe.

“I told you he was beautiful,” Chloe said, running a delicate hand over the cat’s head. North shrugged, following her wife’s lead, the cat wary but allowing the touch simply because it took attention away from the taller vampire in the room.

Or so Ace figured. 

“I’ll be in the common room if I’m needed,” Ace declared for manners’ sake. Chloe’s frown stopped him, her path to the kitchen derailed by his unfortunate announcement.

“Oh no, you’re not,” she said, sliding her arm around Ace’s waist, leading him back towards the kitchen, “I need your help cooking this feast.” In the grand scheme of things, Ace could’ve probably argued that she _did not_ need him—and gotten away with it—but Chloe already handed him an apron and a set of instructions, and who was he to disregard his mother?

North appeared moments later, two bottles of wine in each hand. “I almost forgot we had these,” she said, uncorking the blood wine and taking a sniff, “a little ancient, but doable,” she concluded, grabbing three wine glasses, and pouring a generous amount for herself and half of that for the vampire. Doing the same for the wine, she passed the drinks around, hopping on an unused corner of the island.

Ace took the offering without protest, though had no intentions of drinking it, the curling in his stomach warning enough. It’d been near empty, yesterday’s aborted feeding session not unnoticed. He’d meant to supplement the extra day they’d missed, but regret was yet something he allowed himself to acknowledge, so he sulked instead, peeling and quartering the potatoes.

Chloe started her music playlist in the middle of her second glass of wine, relaxing into the rhythm, her movements nimble and practiced even with her occupied hands. Graceful would’ve been a word to describe it, but the giggle bubbling over with affection at one of her wife’s jokes nearly broke the spell.

It was then a new yet comforting scent joined their group, the curiosity in each cell amplified by the raised brows and confused smile, their owner walking into the kitchen seconds later.

“Gavin!” Chloe said, waving her knife at him, “welcome home.” If she’d delayed her search for new apartments until tomorrow, then that was between her and her wife.

“Thanks?” Gavin shook his head, cocking it to the side, “what’s going on?” he asked, suspicion a familiar friend. He’d made a stop in his room before investigating the source of the sound, his mom's gift sitting on the nightstand, a temporary resting place depending on how he felt about it tomorrow morning. What he hadn’t expected on his walk back was Chloe rough chopping vegetables and Ace in a matching frilly apron.

“I felt bad you didn’t get to celebrate your birthday,” Chloe revealed, her cheeks perhaps a bit redder from the alcohol, “and since you so graciously declined my invitation for a formal dinner, I still wanted you to enjoy a well-cooked meal,” she said, motioning to the mountain of food soon piling into a banquet. Gavin wouldn’t mention how all her meals were well-cooked, he’d be disregarding her point. “Also, North wanted to meet the cat.” Her wife came into view, already presenting Gavin with a glass of wine.

“Not to sound ungrateful,” he began, taking the glass with apprehension, “but you didn’t have to do all this,” he continued, eyeing the dark red liquid like it’d come out to bite him.

“Nonsense,” Chloe replied, waving away whatever mid-century ideals compelled him to say such things, “besides, you’re not the only one who needs to eat!” she reminded, taking a bite out of a carrot for emphasis.

“Actually,” he said, to the unpleasant surprise of three pairs of eyes, “I’m not that hungry.”

North choked on her sip of wine, looking between Ace and Gavin, eyelids narrowing to slits. “You’re not _what_?” She didn’t let him repeat himself, turning her full attention to the vampire doing a fantastic job blocking the world outside of his potatoes. “Did you feed today?”

Ace’s silence was answer enough, but Gavin decided to supplement it with his own interjection, rubbing his neck as he said, “We haven’t really had the chance these last few days.”

“How do you not get a chance to—”

“North,” Chloe warned, stopping her tirade before the brunette really got going, “when did your hunger dissipate?” she asked her fellow drudge, reserving judgment.

“I’d say I haven’t noticed it until today, but it may have been a little longer,” Gavin replied, not knowing that his lack of appetite was anything concerning. He put down his glass of wine, no longer needing to feign interest.

Chloe took a contemplative sip of her drink, putting it down once she’d made her decision. Washing her hands and removing her apron, she let Ace continue the preparations while she motioned for Gavin to follow her.

Like a child being escorted to detention, Gavin fell back a few steps, saying nothing when her path led them to her office. She let him sit in one of her plush chairs before retrieving a familiar box out of her closet.

“I would’ve liked not to use this again,” Chloe said, pulling up a seat next to the drudge, taking his wrist into her hands—with permission, of course—pressing into his pulse point, expression apologetic at his subsequent hiss. “Your pulse is bounding, Gavin, I’m not at all surprised you don’t want to eat—your body’s at capacity,” she informed, sanitizing her hands, “any more and I fear you might burst at the seams,” she joked.

“How,” Gavin paused, letting her apply the tourniquet, though at this point he might not need it, “how did you learn all this?”

Chloe’s smile held a bit of irony in it, her eyes sparkling with secrets. “You didn’t think North and I had to learn as you did?” It’d been rhetorical, but Gavin shook his head regardless. “Of course, we did, everything I’ve ever taught you is because I’ve had to go through it myself.” Chloe palpated the pit of his elbow, wiping the area with an alcohol pad. “There are a few differences, I’m sure, being hypersensitive can’t possibly be comfortable. Homeostasis is difficult enough as it is.”

She held the needle in her hand, looking unsure for a moment. “I should let Ace do this,” she mumbled, untying the tourniquet.

“Don’t you think it’s a little redundant letting a vampire draw my blood?” Gavin asked in the middle of a nervous chuckle.

“Redundancies are what keep the world safe,” Chloe said, keeping the needle in her possession as she leaned against her desk, closing her eyes for a brief second. “If you don’t want him to—”

“Chloe,” Gavin said, stopping her good intentions, “if it’s one needle or four, I’m still getting poked.”

“Right,” Chloe sighed, reaching over her desk for the phone, dialling to the one in the kitchen, “ah, Ace, just the man I wanted to talk to,” she said with a fond eyeroll, “tell North to take over, I request your assistan—” Chloe looked at the receiver with furrowed brows, its premature click nearly compelled her to dial again.

Before she had so much as pressed the first number, the vampire burst into the room, his nostrils flaring with each hard breath, his eyes nothing but black pools rimmed with a sliver of red. He pinpointed Gavin with missile-like precision, jumping out of high-alert the moment he realized he was _fine_.

“Hi,” Chloe waved, hiding her smile behind a polite fist, “I just wanted to teach you something, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What the fuck, Ace?” North called, approaching Chloe’s office with less urgency, “you just ran outta there like a bat out of hell!” She shoved the vampire into the room, increasing the awkwardness of the situation to a smouldering ten. 

“North, if my bread burns, I’m divorcing you,” Chloe warned, pointing at her wife. Rather than getting offended, North took the threat to heart, backpedalling to the kitchen, closing the door as she went.

Gavin, through the whole affair, had to work to correct the irregular beating of his heart, having felt the second-hand panic like a phantom limb. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Ace had been afraid. Which, if Gavin had to be honest, wasn’t something he thought vampires could feel.

“What is it that you needed?” Ace said through a clenched jaw. He’d taken many breaths, yet his lungs felt ready to combust, each instinct to protect his drudge screaming at him to reach for him, make sure what he was seeing could be felt. But that was neither appropriate nor necessary, so, he stood rooted to the spot with the countenance of a rotten tree-trunk.

“I _need_ you to draw some blood,” Chloe began, placing the needle on a sterile gauze pad and retying the tourniquet, ignoring Ace’s incredulous stare for the moment.

“Don’t you think there’s something a bit redundant—”

“Ace,” Chloe said, making Gavin privy to her Lawyer/Mom voice, the tone affecting him by proxy, “we all have our limits, Gavin’s at his,” she continued, advocating for her fellow drudge, “I can’t expect you to drink that much in a day, just as he can’t be expected to control how much he _makes_ in a day.” Chloe dropped a pair of gloves in her son’s hands, staring into his eyes, whose colour struggled to return to blue. “Now, it’s either I do it and perpetually interrupt your drudge/vampire relationship,” she said, “or you do it.”

Ace nodded, sinking his head to his chest. How could someone so small still make him feel like a little kid?

Wordlessly, he trailed her until he was positioned where she wanted him, sitting in the offered chair. Between her trying to convince him this was a good idea, and the vampire’s begrudging acquiescence, Gavin had undone the constricting ribbon, flexing his fingers as blood recirculated through his hand.

It was another learning opportunity, Chloe ever-present for each teaching. She guided him through tying the tourniquet tight—but not too tight—positioning the arm so he had better access to the vein. At this point, Gavin’s vessels were primed for the poke, creating ridges along his skin, glistening under the drying alcohol.

“Ow,” Gavin teased before the needle was anywhere near his arm, smirking at Ace’s confusion.

“Will this hurt?” Ace asked Chloe, his eyes wide with uncertainty. Up until this point, he was following her counsel like scripture. He trusted her not to lead him astray, at least.

“Not any more than a bite would,” she reassured, patting the vampire’s shoulder. She’d already primed the bags, thinking the more technical aspects of the machine could be taught later. “Go ahead, he’s only messing with you.”

“Don’t give away all my secrets,” Gavin murmured, growing impatient. At this point, he’d rather do it himself.

Ace steadied Gavin’s vein, using as little pressure as possible, finger’s featherlight against the skin. There was a rushing in his ears as he went to poke Gavin, vision tunnelling when he pushed against the micro resistance of tissue and blood pressure, gasping at the flash of dark red blood, watching it pool into the translucent bag. He hadn’t noticed he’d been salivating until it spilled over his mouth, a drop of drool managing its escape before he had a chance to wipe it away. It’d been difficult enough to keep his fangs in check, but when each swallow burned a hole in his throat, it’d only make sense for something to slip. At least his drudge had taken to look at the needle instead of his face, cosmic interference at play again, he was certain.

“Unfortunately, this excess blood can’t be donated,” Chloe said, to the surprise of no one, “so, please don’t let it go to waste.”

They nodded their silent understanding, watching Chloe change out the bags and pass the filled one to Ace, who held it as one might a newborn. Its warmth seeped into his fingers, the colour mesmerizing, hypnotic. Chloe had to snap him towards action with a quick pat on the shoulders. He excused himself, fully intent on putting the bag in the freezer, nearly there, his feet doing most of the heavy lifting. But just as he’d managed to put his hand on the cover, his resolve cracked, fangs faster than brain when he punctured through the bag, greedy with each noisy slurp, squeezing as much as he could until there was nothing left. He leaned against the freezer, legs weak and jelly-like, lungs inflamed with precious life-giving oxygen.

The warmth that’d been in the blood now settled in his bones, days of fasting finally broken by a proper meal. His fullness didn’t help the cloying shame digging its vines into his spine. He felt like a woodland creature, deep in the catacombs of his home—in the darkness—feasting on the generosity of others.

Yet, he couldn’t help wringing one final drop out of the bag, groaning when he managed just that.

* * *

The blood draw worked like a charm, reviving in Gavin the hunger which was now commonplace in his day-to-day. He picked at the fruits not shapely enough to make it as decorations, the vegetables not quite ready for the sauté, a slice of bread North snuck to him, he even entertained the idea of wine, since it was the only food item not readily guarded by Chloe’s expert hands.

He’d remember not to overdo it, though, _last time_ still a shadow on his memories.

“Almost done,” Chloe promised, washing her hands, and stepping aside so Ace could clean the kitchen. No sooner was she out of her apron that her wife wrapped her in a tight embrace, a decoy to her more dubious plans of sweeping her off her feet, pressing chaste kisses all over her face. Chloe giggled in surprise, swatting her away.

“See, I didn’t let your bread burn,” North said, supporting Chloe with one arm, using the other to feed her a piece of said bread—buttered and everything. “Will you marry me again?”

“I never divorced you,” Chloe said, wiping away North’s ridiculous pout.

“You didn’t answer my question,” North replied, deathly serious, “I can’t live without you.” She’d nuzzled the words into the crook of Chloe’s neck but said it loud enough for the eavesdroppers to hear.

Chloe gave a dramatic sigh, looking to the heavens. “I’ll have to think about it,” she said, following it up with a tactful smooch on her wife’s cheek.

“Did you hear that?” North said over her shoulder, undeniably smug, “she said she’ll think about it.” She carried them out of the kitchen, leaving Ace and Gavin to shift their gazes around like a game of pong.

“I’m gonna go—”

“I’ll bring the food—”

“Go ahead—”

“You first—”

Gavin chuckled, a nervous little thing burying itself in irony. “I’ll be in the dining room.”

“Wait,” Ace rushed out, rounding the island to meet Gavin by the double doors. His drudge’s suspicion tasted like salted caramel, the curious tone softening its harder edges. “I want you to know that I am empathetic to your plight.” He forced the words through a lump in his throat, feeling them squeeze through with each breath. “I am sorry that I can’t _do_ more for you.”

The hand on his shoulder was unexpected, as was Gavin’s noncommittal shrug, the lingering of his fingertips like embers on his clothed skin. Ace didn’t mind its unsolicited presence, didn’t fight the urge to relax into the contact, the intangible fear from earlier resolving in fragments.

“It’s a shit set of cards, I’m not gonna lie,” Gavin said, dropping his hand, “there was a moment, before you knew, where I really thought I’d have to deal with this by myself.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, drawing blood in his haste. “Then when you found out, I…I just _knew_ this wouldn’t work out—that I’d been damned for good.” Gavin sighed, plastering a strained smile on his face. “I’m still not sure if any of this is working out—it was only yesterday I found out you could juggle ten of me without breaking a sweat.”

“About that—”

“I never meant it as a bad thing,” Gavin interrupted, unravelling the anxious knot that’d coiled itself in his shoulders the moment he’d let his tongue choose his sleep-deprived words. “It’s just a little disconcerting is all,” he huffed, cheeks glowing under the kitchen lights, “I know you can be gentle—I’ve seen it!” Gavin said, gesturing mid-air. “Maybe you’ve just been a bit too gentle with me, like I’ll break if you push me too hard.” 

“I fear I’ve done the opposite,” Ace admitted, his head falling from self-disappointment, “Chloe always says I’m a bit too cold.”

Gavin stepped closer, emboldened by a supernatural force when he lifted Ace’s chin, letting their eyes met, hand splayed to cover his cheek, not quite as pale as it’d been earlier. “You feel fine to me.”

Ace let out a huff, shaking his head and dislodging Gavin’s touch in the process, “I’ll start serving dinner before they come back,” he said, already making his way to the pot, thankful for the excuse to bury his face in it. Maybe then it’d explain why it burned so hot.

Gavin hesitated for a hairsbreadth, taking his liquid courage and an extra plate of bread with him before he left. Chloe and North were quite settled into their seats, looking like they hadn’t enjoyed each other's company in a while.

“Have you renewed your vows?” Gavin teased, breaking their lovely spell.

“We never had vows,” North said, a wicked glint in her eyes, “I just threw her over my shoulder and ran into the woods.”

Chloe shook her head, slapping her wife over her shoulder. “We renew them every century,” she clarified, “the priest who married us is still alive and doing quite well for himself. His chateau even has a piece of my old boarding house attached to it,” she continued, taking a deep sip of the antique wine, inviting Gavin to do the same. “I wish I could relive that night—as much as my bones ached, and my lungs burned, and my flyways refused to lay flat, I’d never trade that moment for the world.” And just like that, they were back in each other’s eyes, the world around them melting with the finality of a wax candle.

Ace walked in—the plates piled up to his elbows giving the impression he’d grown a few more arms. He paused by the edge of the table, raising a brow at the overabundance of pheromones surrounding his two mother-figures. Sharing a look with Gavin, he tried to be as unobtrusive as possible whilst passing out the dishes.

“They’re reminiscing,” Gavin said, answering the vampire’s silent question.

“Of course.”

* * *

Dinner was a rich affair of appreciative hums and libations, Chloe’s tolerance almost endless. Gavin gave up after his third glass, feeling the hazy fog of drunkenness encroach on his vision like a warning. He couldn’t say he wasn’t affected, however, when his hand slipped a few times over his fork, the metallic clank distant to his ears.

It seems they did get to enjoy their good food and wine, the last of the cake serving as dessert, ending their night on a sweet note.

Gavin leaned against the chair, on the right side of overfull. He watched through lidded eyes Chloe and North say their goodbyes, he even managed one of his own, lifting his comatose limbs into a wave.

Ace moved around the edges of his sight picking up their empty dishes and glasses, close enough to Gavin that his disappointed grunt roused him out of his stupor.

“Oh, shut up,” Gavin grumbled, forcing himself out of the chair, “you drank too.”

Thunder’s meow interrupted whatever protests the vampire had queued up, compelling him to continue his trek back to the kitchen, to the dirty dishes glaring at him from the sink. Gavin followed him—his uneven shuffle due in part to Thunder’s comical wriggling.

“Stop it,” Gavin warned, bringing the cat close to his chest, “I’m trying to fix your cone, little mister, you still have ten days of this.”

“I’m sure he understands the passage of time as well as you do,” Ace mocked, his hands on autopilot going through the motions of cleaning the dishes.

Gavin paused his adjusting to stick his tongue out at the vampire, ignoring the worst of his quip in favour of taking Thunder back into his arms and peppering his soft, furry head with apologetic kisses. “I’m sure you’re the smartest one in here, right Thundy?”

“You’ve nicknamed it.”

“Of course,” Gavin said, burying—or attempting to, what with the cone in the way—his head next to the tabby’s neck. “He’s far too cute _not_ to have one.” Gavin turned his mouth to the flickering ear, murmuring a “Right, baby?” into it.

“Keep spoiling it like that, and it’ll never leave your side,” Ace said, more of a warning than an observation.

“That’s the idea!” Gavin said as if it’d been the best thing in the world. “Unless you’re jealous?” He chanced a glance at the vampire, noting how his frown deepened a fraction, how his hands scrubbed over a clean spot with such robotic repetition that he was sure it was more a tic than conscious choice.

“I’m not jealous of your cat, Gavin.”

“Hmm.”

Gavin’s smirk was infuriating, igniting every defensive mechanism Ace had learned to date. He had to settle for scrubbing the wine glass harder, the abrasive nature of his ministrations earning him no favours as the delicate stem split in two, proving the universe had a perverse sense of timing.

“Who am I, Thunder?” Gavin asked with such a sweet tone, Ace couldn’t believe it’d come from the same mouth, one—might he add—that was now peppering kisses all over the feline’s head. “That’s right, I’m North.”

Ace snorted, having to admit his drudge had a point. There’s never been a moment North _hadn’t_ been attached to Chloe’s hip. He’d call it co-dependent if he didn’t have a similar magnet pulling him. But as close as you’d be to calling their situation identical, Ace couldn’t help but point out the stark differences. North, for one, was in love with Chloe—had been long before drudgery was even part of their story. She didn’t have to fight the pull of the magnet, didn’t have to resist its compelling nature, its persuasive voice when her drudge so much as calls her name.

Ace shut off the tap, drying his hands with a nearby towel, idling by the counter as Gavin continued to quiz the tabby by peppering kisses on its furry face.

“And who am I now?” Thunder meowed, looking ready to jump out of Gavin’s arms, “that’s right, I’m mommy the moment she gets to meet you.”

“I believe he’s at maximum capacity,” Ace said, sharing a look with the cat, “any more kisses and he’ll explode.”

“See, you are jealous,” Gavin pointed, giving Thunder the perfect opportunity to scamper off, “it’s like you’ve never been kissed before or something.”

Gavin’s knack for hitting the nail on its head—even whilst semi-inebriated—had to be the world’s way of repaying all the misfortune it brought him. Ace said nothing, and hoped to whoever would listen, that Gavin wouldn’t question his silence, that he’d let his jab slide just as Ace did.

But no such luck, not when they were the only two in the room.

Gavin gasped, narrowing his eyes at the vampire, sobering a bit when he asked, “Was I your first kiss?”

It was too much. They’d sworn not to talk about it, to leave it alone, to let it _die_ —and Gavin wondered why he disapproved of his alcoholic consumption.

The vampire marched out of the kitchen, aimlessness leading him around in circles. He felt trapped in his own home, the hallways he’d traversed a million times growing foreign to him in his panic.

“Ace, wait,” Gavin called, kicking himself for his insensitivity. Of course, he’d been his first kiss, he’d known that—when Ace confessed he’d never had the chance to be with _anyone_ before. And how could he, he barely left the house! He followed the vampire through his vague escape attempt, cornering him in the feeding room. “Wait,” he pleaded, holding up both his hands, “I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to—” Gavin grumbled at his ineptitude, rubbing a frustrated hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I know things were different for you.”

Ace huffed an incredulous and nervous sound. He couldn’t yet form words, his tongue ensnared by the fear he’d say something stupid—or worse—something telling. But he forced himself to say something, anything, to derail the conversation.

“You don’t even remember.”

“No,” Gavin admitted, “I do not…I’m sorry about that too.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks hot enough to melt steel. “Couldn’t have made a good first impression with that.”

“What?”

Gavin’s eyes snapped up—his smile timid. “Your first kiss should be special—with someone you care about—I know mine wasn’t.” She’d been a pretty girl, don’t get him wrong, but it kinda’ solidified something he’d been too slow to figure out on his own. “Don’t be ashamed for waiting until you’re ready.”

“What if”—Ace took a deep breath, balling his trembling hands to fists— “what if I’m never ready?”

Gavin cocked his head to the side, regarding Ace as the sum of his parts and not pity him for the ones the vampire found inadequate. He took a step forward, feeling the balance tip to his side, Ace’s frightened gaze something he’d never get used to. It was bold to assume he’d even accept his offered hand but was he thankful when he did—it’d be doubly awkward if they were both standing idle.

He led them to the couch, sitting them closer than they ever had—at least in recent memory. “It’s okay not to be ready, too, or not know, or not want,” Gavin said, hoping he wasn’t serving empty platitudes. “But…but when you do know,” he began, pressing a fist against the vampire’s thumping heart, “you’ll feel it here.” Moving his fist lower, he was careful to do so in small increments, holding Ace’s piercing gaze, nearly painful in their intensity. “And here.” He flattened his hand over the vampire’s lower abdomen, the muscles quivering beneath his fingers. Feeling just as they did, he pulled away, a few more moments from breaking apart—liquid courage only lasting so long.

Ace stopped his arm before it reached his side, putting it back over his heart. “This isn’t normal,” he said, sounding breathless, “our heart rates range between twenty and forty—I’m at a hundred.” He breathed in and held it, trying to force his body to calm down. “I don’t know what that means for your theory.”

“We could test it if you like?”

For the second time that night, Ace found himself at an utter loss for words, the only one that came to mind inelegant and taxing on the years of education he’d endured. Yet he said it, the breath that left him carrying with it the singular word.

“I’m—it’s just,” Gavin floundered, putting a bit of much-needed distance between them, the cold that came over him quick and unforgiving, “it was just a suggestion, you don’t have to accept, but if you want to know, sometimes it’s best to just get it out of the way.”

“Haven’t we already ‘gotten it out of the way?’”

“ _That_ still doesn’t count,” Gavin said, putting his head in his hands, “I was drunk, and you weren’t expecting it.”

“You’re not exactly sober now,” Ace reminded, the bitter flower that was alcohol still thrumming beneath the surface of Gavin’s scent.

“I’m sober enough.” Which was code for: _I’ll remember this_.

“Gavin—”

“You don’t have to,” the drudge repeated, “it was a stupid idea anyway.” He made to stand, but Ace held his arm, a silent plea to stay, to not leave quite yet.

“I suppose this can be one of your teaching moments,” the vampire said, trying his hand at humour. His attempts fell on deaf ears, but his words didn’t, Gavin having agreed with a quick nod of the head.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything,” _if you don’t want it to_ , “just try not to think too hard,” Gavin counselled. Whether it was for himself or the vampire was something he was trying to ignore.

Positioning them so they were facing each other, Gavin licked his lips, leaning forward first but stopping when Ace shied away—his blush nearly as warm as Gavin’s.

“Here,” Gavin murmured, cradling the vampire’s face in his hands, “use your words if you want me to stop.” He still waited until he got a reply or a nod, Ace gave him both, his ‘proceed’ quiet but present.

He didn’t abort his course this time, but he did gentle his actions, starting with the barest pressure—a hint of a kiss. When there were no protests, he pushed again, this time managing an involuntary reaction out of his kissing partner—a flick of the tongue.

Gavin replied in kind, doing most of the work in getting their mouths to mould together—which deserved a medal in and of itself. Ace was a steel column against him, muscles both rigid and trembling under his fingertips.

He pulled away just enough to whisper, “Relax,” returning a stray curl behind the vampire’s ear, scratching the spot there like he would on his cat. Ace leaned into the scritches, all-too pleasant shivers running down his back, erupting goosebumps in their aftermath. “You like that, don’t you?” he teased, gentle when he dragged his blunt nails down Ace’s scalp and to his neck, back and forth until he mewled—the sound surprising them both.

Ace opened his eyes, mortification a slow-moving poison. Gavin didn’t seem as perturbed, taking it as an encouragement to continue, using the hand he had on Ace’s neck to bring him forward, exploiting his secret weapon when he felt him tense again. It was through the vampire’s involuntary gasp that Gavin gained the opportunity to deepen their kiss, pushing more of himself into Ace’s personal bubble until most of him was either touching him or quite close to it.

This hadn’t been his intention—and the hindsight that was sure to follow would remind him of that—but he hadn’t been touched in so long, and even the modicum of reciprocation finally directed towards their kiss was enough to push him forward, hungry. Wanting.

Gavin groaned his appreciation at the tongue pressing into his own, no qualms relinquishing control when he opened his mouth further, a hard shudder dancing on his spine when Ace’s tongue brushed against the roof of his mouth.

In his quest to return the gesture, he forgot about four very _sharp_ needles, slicing his tongue enough for a few drops to fall, the healing salve that was Ace’s saliva nullifying the effect, but not quick enough. The taste of blood was like fuel to a rocket ship for the vampire, the drive to taste it again compelling a dramatic shift in their position.

Gavin now lay flat on his back, making it hard to ignore the most obvious of his problems. Ace’s weight on him wasn’t helping since each shift brought them closer to a premature accident. But the vampire didn’t seem to be paying him or his troublesome anatomy any mind, instead, he’d broken their dizzying kiss, following the curve of Gavin’s jaw, sucking bruises into the crook of his neck, tonguing his pulse point like it’d spill over his skin.

At the grazing of his fangs, Gavin had to clutch onto the vampire, his fists leaving wrinkles in the fabric of his blazer.

Ace hadn’t bit, but just as Gavin was close to coming undone, Ace was struggling with his own urges and conflicting desires, knowing—somewhere in his brain, at least—that this had crossed the line from educational to unprofessional the moment he’d derived some form of pleasure from it.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Gavin breathed, hugging Ace to himself, his fingers tingling with how hard he held him, every shift of his muscles like that of a great beast barely tamed by the seam of his suit. Gavin tried once more to speak, clearing his throat when he said, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually like me.”

Regardless of its teasing tone, it may have been the wrong thing to say. Even as the words left his mouth, he could feel the weight of them grow astronomical with the insinuation of his statement, of what it might mean if it indeed were true that despite everything, Ace might like him a little more than he previously thought.

By the time Gavin decided that he was _fine_ with that, Ace had pushed himself away—with immense difficulty, Gavin was glad to see—his absence like an ice bath in the Antarctic. He looked lost, his perfect hair now in curled tatters, his clothes shifted awkwardly where they’d pressed and pushed against each other, evidence of Gavin’s unfortunate tongue slip sitting pretty on the clear fabric of his undershirt. A blind man could see a few more genuine minutes of this might have ended in catastrophe for their characters.

Ace backed away from the reprehensible notion that he wouldn’t have minded, that if—

The vampire turned on a heel and left, not another word spoken between them.

Gavin groaned, cursing the loaded gun in his mouth. Only him—only-fucking-him—could ruin such a moment. He couldn’t even tell Ace to stay, that he was only teasing, that he—

That they—

Fuck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EHHEHEHEHEHEHEH! Oh, I'm sorry for the wait, but re-reading this was incredible! 
> 
> Anyway, finally!


	23. You should be more careful with your pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little aftermath chapter. This was part of a larger chapter, but I decided to split it because it flows better. 
> 
> Anywhoooo, 
> 
> Thank you guys for all the love on the last chapter. It's definitely up there with my favourite chapter.

The antique sofa was as comfortable a spot as any to fall asleep, but as the fire died down to embers and snuffed itself into charcoal, the room grew cold and foreign, the slight draft from the open door bringing shivers to Gavin’s limbs. And yet, despite feeling like water in the freezer, he didn’t move—couldn’t, if he had to be honest. It took Thunder’s surprising meow to get him to budge, to relax the tense string that’d been his spine, muscles and bones creaking in time with the old floorboards.

Everything should be as it was, yet walking through the corridor, to the foyer, and up the grand staircase, he couldn’t help stopping every few moments to ground himself, to touch something solid and real, simply to remind himself he wasn’t wading through a half-baked dream. He felt too alone, the house too empty, too big. There were no traces of the vampire in any cardinal direction, and straining his ears as he was, Gavin couldn’t make out any sounds coming from his room.

He stood at an impasse, halfway between his room and Ace’s. There was a radical thought that crossed his mind, one that’d escaped the prison in which he kept his baser feelings, the ones socially unacceptable no matter what context. He yearned to close the distance between their rooms, to eliminate the trek that kept them divided. It was a crippling sensation, to want something so absolutely and know it was nothing more than an erroneous evolutionary failsafe.

His skin still burned where they’d touched, his tongue ached where it’d been cut, tastebuds tender and sensitive. He’d been made hyperaware of his five senses, and now they all coalesced into an overbearing headache, throbbing somewhere between the spaces of his skull and brain.

With a sigh, Gavin trudged to his bedroom, kicking his shoes off before burying himself beneath the covers, sinking into the mattress like a heavy stone.

The morning brought with it a momentary reprieve of consequence and thought until Thunder stepped on his neck and blocked his airway. Gavin’s survival instincts kicked in before he could, shoving the cat halfway across the bed in his haste to relieve the pressure. Thunder looked back and meowed, more perturbed he’d been displaced, not a trace of guilt on his face.

Gavin rubbed his temples, noting the open door as the culprit for his rude awakening. He stretched, yesterday’s clothes clinging and twisting around him, the band of his jeans digging into his waist where it’d been caught in one of the bedsheets. Cursing all the way to the bathroom, Gavin disentangled himself, leaning on the counter for support before splashing some water across his hot cheeks. He went for his toothbrush and toothpaste, intent on washing away the taste of stale wine, before he paused and squinted at his reflection, leaning closer to get a better look at his lips.

…Well, there was no denying they’d kissed.

The shudder that overtook him when he pressed into the swollen flesh of his bottom lip should’ve been embarrassing, and even though his blush deepened and spread to the pit of his soul, he couldn’t help licking around the redness, feel the beat of his heart push itself into his mouth, clogging any semblance of air. He rushed through brushing his teeth, jumping when the bristles touched his tongue.

This didn’t bode well for him, more and more of his nerves were turning inside out, making his already sensitive skin cry its overwhelmed discontent. Gavin passed the bristles over his tongue again, caught between a sigh and a moan as his enlightened tastebuds brought to life each stroke. He’d found out the hard way this _didn’t_ go away—he could only hope to get used to it.

Or die trying.

He put away his toiletries, ignoring the dazed man staring back at him every time he chanced a glance at himself. The morning was slipping through his hands, Thunder meowing his hunger through the rushing water—Gavin couldn’t waste his time with the intricacies of venom and the annoying effects it had on his body.

Yet, even as he resolved to put it behind him, he found himself grazing his tongue against his teeth, sucking it against the roof of his mouth, tasting nothing more than the minty flavour of his toothpaste. He groaned, the throbbing between his eyes now remnants of yesterday’s headache.

It didn’t seem to stop in his head, it extended past him like a live wire left exposed for him to grasp. He didn’t dare touch it—he’d tempted fate enough as it was.

“I hear you, Thundy,” Gavin said, replying to the cat’s incessant call. He ran a towel over his skin and another through his hair, wrapping the bigger one around his hips before opening the door. “I’ll feed you in a sec, okay?” he said, bending low to scratch the cat behind his ears.

It was a good enough reassurance as any, Thunder content for the moment with scampering out through the open bedroom door. That gave Gavin enough time to get ready in peace. The weather was turning, but slowly, the leaves on trees yielding to the autumnal beckon. Snow shouldn’t be too far out, and given recent winters, he hoped this house was well equipped to handle the worst of it.

If he hadn’t already moved, of course.

Settling for a black knit sweater and a matching set of jeans, he trekked down to the kitchen, pausing by Thunder’s food bowl, his brow quirking with suspicion at his cat. “You already ate, you little brat.” Thunder would’ve rolled his eyes if he could, headbutting Gavin’s shins, the cone blocking most of his path. “You’re not an outdoor cat anymore, if I give you more, you’re gonna get fat.”

“ _Meow_.”

Gavin sighed, caving into the request. His mother had called out his soft spot once, knew when Kitty and Catie got an extra portion just by their silence after they’d hunted him down. He wouldn’t let Thunder rule him—but just this once wouldn’t hurt.

The tabby’s content chomping reminded him of his own growling stomach, which led to his eyes roaming across the kitchen, its emptiness disturbing. He’d gotten too used to Ace cooking him breakfast. Unprompted as it was, he never failed with that one task—even before they’d been bonded. Gavin opened the fridge, fully intent on cooking something, stopping when he read his name, a pre-packaged meal waiting beneath it.

So, the vampire hadn’t forgotten about him.

Gavin reheated his food, chewing it with deliberate slowness, each curl of his tongue around his fork bringing fine shivers to his fingers, goosebumps erupting on every square inch of exposed skin. He couldn’t even drink his homemade orange juice without the acidity stinging a delightful dance on his affected tastebuds.

Returning his fork to the plate, Gavin pushed it aside, drawing a deep breath. Whose brilliant idea was it to let him have a body? He could barely maneuver one step at a time, much less pilot an entire brain.

Said brain was marching itself outside, disregarding the biting wind and threats of rain in favour of reaching the garage doors, intuition guiding him towards the correct path, a string tightly woven in one direction.

“We need to talk,” Gavin insisted without preamble. Ace’s back was turned to him, but he couldn’t hide the stiffness that overtook his shoulders, the annoyed tilt of his head, the clench of his jaw. Microexpressions the drudge would’ve missed had he stopped paying attention.

“About?” Ace replied, skipping his usual reprimanding greeting, the one that tried in vain to keep manners alive. He’d yet to turn around, probably wouldn’t manage in his current state.

“Don’t play dumb,” Gavin said, minding the delineation between the outside world and Ace’s workspace, “we need to talk about last night.”

At that, Ace gave a dry chuckle, the cotton shirt straining as the muscles in his back tensed further. “I don’t see why we should,” he said, tossing Gavin a sideways glance, “you got what you wanted.”

Gavin took a mental step back—there may have been a million thoughts circling the drain of his confusion, but they all halted to ask a very resolute, “What?”

“What was it that you said,” Ace replied, finding the wherewithal to turn around, “don’t play dumb?” He moved around the car, putting the much-needed space between them. “You mock and ridicule my inexperience, why did I expect any different from your offer?”

Gavin shook his head, stuck between wanting to defend and explain himself. “That wasn’t my intention,” he said, settling for both, “I didn’t mean to if I did.”

“It’s okay, Gavin,” Ace said, using a tone so infuriatingly patronizing it almost drove the drudge to take his words back, “I forgive you.”

“That’s not—” Gavin stopped, rubbing the bounding pulse in his temples. It was throwing a tantrum, each second left undisturbed leading to it doubling its efforts. “That’s not how it was meant to go,” he tried again, managing the words through his tight throat, “I know you know that.”

“Does it matter?” Ace asked, his eyes falling to his hands, to the imperceptible shake only he could feel. “Why does it always feel like I’m wading through the darkness and you’re the one holding a flashlight?”

“That’s not true,” Gavin said with a nervous laugh. He felt out of breath as if the air had seeped through the concrete, taking his voice with it. “If anything, you’re the one with the night vision.”

It was with that that Ace decided to meet Gavin’s eyes. He’d withheld eye contact for sanity’s sake, but not looking wasn’t doing him any favours either. His drudge was most honest with his eyes, unable to quell their reaction, untrained and raw in ways his ancestors would thoroughly disprove of. Ace wasn’t as ill-equipped with letting his emotions show, but he felt his resolve cracking the more he looked at Gavin, the more time he spent with this unfiltered mess of a man.

“If your intent wasn’t ridicule, then what was it?” Ace asked, baring his soul yet again for scrutiny.

“I…I thought I could help show you the difference between wanting to kiss someone and just kissing,” Gavin said, the heat of the sun trapped beneath his face, “it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You were drunk.”

“I was _tipsy_ ,” Gavin corrected, an abashed smile claiming his lips, “there’s a difference.”

“Drunk or not, it was irresponsible,” Ace said, his hands idling at his sides, “I should not have—”

“Stop,” Gavin warned, “you always do this.” He toed the bold line of Ace’s workspace, trying to catch the vampire’s stare again. “Last time I checked, I’m an adult—I’m as responsible for my decisions as you are yours.” He put one foot over the line, meeting Ace’s annoyed glare. “I’m your drudge, not your child.”

“I’m aware.”

“Good,” Gavin nodded, laughing at himself when he said, “last thing I need is to start calling you daddy.”

Ace said nothing, thinking it prudent to leave well enough alone.

“Are we cool now?” Gavin asked, taking a step back, “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.” He’d said it as a form of consolation, and easy out, granting Ace the same courtesy he gave him once.

“And if I wanted it to?” Ace asked, because he was nothing if not thorough with his curiosity, “what would you do then?”

“I…” Gavin could feel his heart skip a few beats, his internal barometer for bullshit malfunctioning when it came to the vampire. He’d never been able to identify when Ace was joking, and so now, through his serious monotone, Gavin found himself in the same dilemma. “Did you want it to mean something?” he croaked out, clearing his throat of the emotional debris.

“I wonder which answer would spite you, Gavin,” Ace said, having a penchant for using the drudge’s words against him, “whichever that is, is my answer.”

“This must be that medicine everyone is always talking about,” Gavin joked, rubbing his neck, “I’ll be in the feeding room, so, whenever you’re hungry, I guess…”

Ace hummed and watched Gavin make his way back to the mansion, wondering why—despite his drudge having walked—he had to fight the need to chase after him. It didn’t lessen with distance if anything, it got worse, driving anxious shards into his abdomen.

He had to lean against the car, the progress he’d managed to do on his own nominal compared to what he’d accomplished with Gavin. It wasn’t the same without him, it’d been his idea to make it _their_ project after all. Working on it by himself had been a foolish attempt at separation, and he only had to look at the single screw he did manage to put into place to see just how poorly he’d thought this through.

But he’d needed the space, needed something familiar and tedious that took his mind off the beast haunting his memories. He’d seen Gavin’s lips, remembered how he’d bitten them in his haste—not enough to draw blood, but the venom that’d passed them still worked to bruise them, tinge them red, keep them swollen. His heart had raced when the inevitable happened, it’d driven him half-mad, the combination of embarrassed hunger and the novel experience of sharing something so intimate, coupled with his drudge’s blood was an explosive rigged to a tripwire he’d happily stumbled into.

He may have damned himself by letting go of Gavin’s lips, giving the man the chance to speak always ended poorly for them. He’d been at his neck, breathing in desire’s intoxicating scent, dreaming of what it’d taste like, when he’d been whisked from the fantasy by those damning words.

Repeating them now, even to himself, felt…he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about them, and that made the situation worse. If he knew himself, his feelings, if he knew Gavin and _his_ feelings, then maybe he could explain why his initial instinct was to agree that indeed—on some level—he’d liked what they’d been doing.

Perhaps a bit too much.

And that’d scared him. He was aware enough to admit that. Predictable unpredictability—it’d be the death of him soon enough.

* * *

When Ace saw Gavin again, many hours had elapsed. Whilst the car had proven a bust for his productivity, he’d entertained himself with other unfinished projects, clearing a few of them from his ever-expanding list of WIPs.

True to his word, Gavin was in the feeding room, though evidence of his numerous migrations presented themselves in chunks whilst he slept on the couch. Thunder’s spare food bowl was half empty, mirroring Gavin’s plate with uncanny accuracy. Two pawns had been moved two spaces forwards, almost as if they were negotiating, trying to keep their troops at bay. The TV was on but hushed, the late-night re-runs filling the air with canned laughter and banal cadence.

Ace settled by his side, displacing the cushions only enough to slot himself in. He’d done this many times, either sitting in his reading chair, by the chessboard or right beside Gavin, spending a few minutes of his post-feed time making sure he hadn’t taken too much, that his drudge’s sudden lethargy wasn’t a sign of impending death. Eventually, he couldn’t pretend he did it out of concern alone when—after his maintenance check—he remained, dutiful and silent, reading, or simply watching.

But this wasn’t a post-feed need anymore, not even a pre-feed check. He just wished to be near the man, even if he had no explanation. Ace figured this is what friendship outside of professional boundaries could look like—if he’d given himself the chance.

“I can hear you think,” Gavin mumbled half-asleep, one eye staring at the startled vampire, “mind keeping it down?”

“My apologies,” Ace said, cracking half a smile. Gavin yawned, sitting up from his warm bundle. He spared the vampire a sideways glance before extending his arm, leaning back, and closing his eyes again. “This has become routine for you,” Ace said, taking the offered arm, “so familiar you can do it in your sleep.”

“Was it not supposed to?” Gavin countered, fighting sleep to spare another glance at the vampire.

“No, I’m glad it did,” Ace said, hovering close to his donor’s wrist, “makes my job easier.”

“I’m sure you’re the only vampire in existence that considers eating a chore,” Gavin said through a yawn, “if you could photosynthesize, you would.”

“What brilliant irony—a photosynthetic vampire.” The sitcom’s canned laughter proved to have its own sense of timing, chiming its coincidental ring just as Ace finished his sentence.

“I like when you agree with me,” Gavin said, settling into the feed, “makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.” It’d been a joke, but only just.

Ace would’ve made a point to say he’d agree with Gavin more often, but a part of him knew he couldn’t keep that promise, not if he wanted to preserve reality’s integrity. It wouldn’t hurt, however, to acknowledge his drudge’s sense of humour, if/when it wasn’t poking direct fun at him.

Feeding never took more than fifteen minutes, but Ace tried to take a bit more, even if he did slow his ingestion a fraction. Gavin was dead asleep by the time he finished, not even budging when he went to pick him up, his light snores separating him from a fresh corpse.

There was a point when he stood at the top of the stairs, where he looked in both directions and found himself stuck with indecision. This was ridiculous, Gavin’s room was _right_ there, but so was his room…they both had a bed…and it’s not like Ace had to sleep. He shook his head, looking down at Gavin who—in his momentary struggle—had woken up, and looked like he knew exactly what the vampire was thinking.

“You know,” Gavin began, tapping little patterns into Ace’s tie, “you’re the only guy to ever carry me like this,” he said, splaying his hand over chest, feeling it heave under his fingers, “I thought it was just for convenience but—”

“Please shut up Gavin.”

It’d been so out of place, it’d nearly worked, rendering the drudge more shocked than offended. But, not one to be so easily stopped, Gavin narrowed his eyes at the other man, gauging his reaction as he reached for the unruly curl and tucked it behind his ear, using what he’d learned yesterday to his advantage.

Ace tried to resist the mewl biting at his lungs, and it took every ounce of will-power to keep it at bay. If he were smart, he’d just drop the noxious stimuli, but as it stood, he just brought it closer, still at his makeshift crossroads.

“What do you want?” Gavin whispered against the vampire’s neck—revenge of sorts. “I’m sure I wouldn’t mind giving it to you if you asked.”

The weight of the words proved to be too heavy for Ace, who’d stopped breathing after the first question. He had no choice but to put Gavin down and place the air between them, his instinct to flee learned but no less powerful.

Gavin caught himself before he stumbled forward, his legs uncertain of their capacity to hold him. He hadn’t expected to be unseated so swiftly, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. “Ace,” he ground out, taming the irritation enough to keep it from his voice, “you’re killing me here,” he admitted, “what do you want?”

“What do _you_ want?” Ace parroted, albeit with a bit more urgency, “I was perfectly content being alone before you—”

Gavin waited, exercising patience he didn’t feel as Ace mulled over his words. When it looked like he wouldn’t say anything else, the drudge took it upon himself to encourage him to speak, by any means necessary. “Before you met me? Is that what you wanted to say?”

“Before you kissed me, Gavin,” Ace spat out, “and you didn’t even have the decency to remember.”

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to bury it?” Gavin retorted when he realized it wasn’t last night they were talking about.

“I’ve been trying to for weeks, but I can’t shake it,” Ace said, looking at his hands, “I wanted to know why you did it, but even you don’t know.”

Guilt crawled like sin on Gavin’s back, making him cower under the burden. He couldn’t meet Ace’s eyes anymore—didn’t think he had the right. “Maybe…maybe I just wanted to.”

“But you don’t want _me_ ,” Ace said, surer of that than the ground supporting his feet, “you’ll get your fill, you’ll have your fun, and then you’ll get bored—like you often do.”

Gavin’s head snapped up, indignation rearing its proud head. “You don’t think I could keep myself entertained with you for a few centuries?”

“I’m not a toy, Gavin,” Ace replied, almost as if he’d been ready for the quip, “if I do this, I want it to be with someone who cares about me, as I do them.” It was a romantic notion, and if either of them had enough time to analyze it, they might realize how simple of an idea it was in theory, but oh so difficult in execution.

“You don’t think I care about you?” Gavin asked, almost as if he hadn’t meant to. It’d been said low, his voice shaky, like it’d been suspended on a tight-rope and cut halfway through.

Ace scoffed, incredulous. “I’m sure some part of you does, it has to, because of what you’ve become, what I turned you into,” he said, the latter part of his statement sounding like an apology, “but I don’t want fragments of your affections, I want…”

“Everything,” Gavin said, filling in the blanks.

“Yes,” Ace agreed, “and you can’t give me that.”

“No one can give you everything,” Gavin said, the sobering pin to Ace’s expectation bubble, “it’s unrealistic.”

The vampire knew that, he’d known that the moment he opened his mouth, yet he saw that love in Chloe and North, the strength they’d cultivated through the centuries. He envied them their ease, their open affection. Even his parents, who only strayed from their strict upbringing when they thought they were alone, had that undisputable love, a bond that’d bent many times but never enough to break.

Ace shook his head, knowing he’d misplaced the few rogue attractions he’d had on the one person who’d showed him reciprocation. It’d been a dangerous game—one he hadn’t been privy to until he’d lost. “Goodnight, Gavin.”

“Stop—you can’t—” Gavin rubbed his aching head, his pulse behind his eyelids. “We can’t keep burying these moments and pretend they don’t exist.”

“In an effort to preserve the peace, I suggest we try,” Ace said, unwilling to lift his gaze from the floor.

“Until what? I get too drunk and you get desperate?” Gavin scoffed, unsure what to do with the mounting energy in his limbs, “I can’t live in eternal anticipation, Ace, it’s not fair to either of us.”

The vampire’s jaw clenched, hating Gavin for the perfect point he’d made. “Then what do you want?”

It wasn’t an easy question to answer, they kept passing it off like a boiling pot, waiting to see which one would make it overflow. Gavin hadn’t given it much thought before, resigned to taking each day as time as it came, perhaps looking for a partner once he’d settled. Now he felt trapped in an unfortunate stereotype, willing to bare his skin for another intimate touch or reciprocated kiss. It was the hormones at play again, he was certain, but the harder he pondered the more he knew that _everything_ stemmed from his hormones. His evolutionary drive wasn’t any better equipped than anyone else’s, and it was that potential that frightened him into cowardice, that encouraged his forced nonchalance, his flippancy towards being manhandled, or carried, or even _pinned_.

He’d never been able to read the vampire, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t understand him, couldn’t relate to the confusing pull that tied their protector/provider roles in such tight knots that even cutting them seemed impossible.

He hadn’t minded what they’d done—liked it, even—but admitting that felt like weakness, the same weakness Ace was trying quite hard to hide.

“I want to know where I stand,” Gavin began, begging his voice to be steady, “I want to know what I am to you, what you want me to be.”

“I’ve never…you’re a responsibility I never thought I’d have,” Ace said with a pained smile, “if I’d have known this was my fate, I would’ve reconciled with my brother ages ago.” He took a tentative step forward, returning to Gavin’s personal space. “Once my parents realized I was as good as sterile, they stopped trying,” he said, lifting a hand and placing it on Gavin’s cheek like he was something precious, something endangered. “I was never taught how to handle a drudge, never told there’d be these many emotions involved. I’d figured North had a penchant for exaggerating her love.”

“Maybe she does,” Gavin said, keeping himself still and pliant.

“Perhaps, but I can see why she would want to,” Ace admitted, joining his other hand to cradle Gavin’s face, “even Chloe, with her tireless search, never expected this from me. The books I’ve read don’t do reality justice, and I fear that I’ve yet again failed to act as I should.”

“How do you think you should act?”

“I should know better than to take more than is given,” Ace said, his fingers trembling where they touched Gavin, the drudge now privy to his fragility, “I should know not to cross boundaries previously set.” He stepped closer, craning his neck to keep eye-contact with the shorter man, who mimicked his actions. “I need to remind myself you are nothing more than my drudge,” Ace said, compelled to add, “and perhaps at this point also my friend.”

“Thanks,” Gavin grumbled, his pout exaggerated.

“Maybe you misunderstand,” Ace said, searching Gavin’s eyes, “or maybe I’m making myself unclear,” he held his breath before continuing, “I need you to be my drudge—at least until these feelings pass.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Both, Gavin,” Ace implored in earnest, “I do not want you to feel trapped, and I, in turn, do not want to be trapped. Until we know for certain these emotions aren’t side effects of our bond, we should aim for friendly interactions.”

Gavin snorted, pulling out of Ace’s grip, “Don’t you flirt with all your friends?” It was meant as a jest, but the way the vampire’s eyes widened a fraction made him wonder if he’d blindly hit a nail on the head.

“Please?”

“If it means that much to you, I’ll try,” Gavin said, shrugging his tense shoulders, “but I’m not as good at uncrossing wires as you seem to be,” he continued, his face already past the point of flaming hot, “I don’t mind this being something we do alongside everything else.”

“You only say that because you haven’t found better,” Ace said, crossing his arms behind his back.

“Yes, because you’re such a terrible catch,” Gavin retorted, rolling his eyes, “I wonder how many men you’ve left waiting and wanting simply because you thought they could ‘do better’.”

“Not as many as you think, I’m sure.” Now it was Ace’s turn to blush, bashfulness bringing a wonderful tint to his cheeks.

“I don’t know,” Gavin said, appraising the vampire’s expertly cut suit, his sharp jawline and bright eyes which never settled between blue and grey, his height (which was a personal favourite, but he’d never tell). “You’ve been alive long enough, I’m sure you’ve had admirers in the meantime.”

“You’re too kind,” Ace said, dropping his head.

“Did you really not think…” But how could he, when he’d spent his entire childhood in the shadows, “I promise you you’re someone’s type.” Gavin paused, scratching his neck. “Maybe if things were different, I’d…I definitely _wouldn’t_ mind.”

“You can stop now, Gavin,” Ace said, his smile plaintive.

“I mean it,” the drudge replied with complete honesty, “my room’s that way, if you ever wanted to…” He let the sentence die, his offer hanging in the air like expired milk. If he’d had half his wits about him, he’d known it to be a prematurely bad idea, but as it stood, he was still half-asleep in the hallway. It didn’t mean he hadn’t meant it, but maybe it’d have been better to leave well enough alone—just like Ace had asked.

“I’ll consider it, if the urge strikes,” the vampire said, shaking his head.

“See? Now we’re both joking,” Gavin said, beginning his backwards retreat out of this awkward situation, “we can be friendly and flirty if we try.”

“Emphasis on the word,” Ace agreed, watching his drudge with curious eyes. “Goodnight, Gavin,” he said after the man had made it inside his room.

“Goodnight, Ace.” He hesitated by the door running a finger down the woodgrain before he decided to continue. “Don’t think about this too hard, okay?” Which might be hypocritical of him since all he’d _been_ doing is thinking about it, with various degrees of hardness. But Ace nodded as if he understood, even if he too was being a hypocrite as they both laid their heads to rest, promising to not think about it.

Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To me, Gavin's that guy who's all jokes but COMPLETELY serious at the same time. And so you can't get a good read on him until you're married to him, and even then you're like, "was our entire engagement a joke? I mean, he said I do."


	24. Add it up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M STILL ALIVE, I'm so sorry ~
> 
> I didn't intend for this to take as long as it did. But life...I know I don't have to describe how this past year has been a royal pain in the ass!
> 
> I didn't want it to reflect in my writing, but I have a fear it did. I never want to write sub-par things. Though I'm not the best writer in the world, I'm trying hard to write the best I can, considering my limited skill set. 
> 
> So please excuse the delay, any mistakes, and take this extra-long chapter as an apology. 
> 
> Title from song Add It Up by Cruel Black Dove

“What are you doing?” Gavin asked after he’d flexed his knuckles, readying his arm for the bite, only for the vampire to shake his head and return with the blood-drawing kit.

“Chloe asked for your presence in her apartment-hunting,” Ace answered, eidetic memory guiding him through the tubes and wires, “and I have a lecture to attend.” Gavin looked unconvinced, the jut of his lip on the right side of petulant. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you how sensitive you are to the somnolent effects of ven—”

“I got it,” Gavin snapped, rolling up his sleeve, “don’t get used to this, though.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Ace replied, his eyes fixated on the large needle, his curious nature nearly bringing it to his fangs for comparison.

“I mean,” Gavin began, covering the crook of his arm, it was enough to get the vampire to look at him, an annoyed twitch passing through his eyebrows, “you’re the type of starving man to refuse a meal to prove he’s not hungry.”

Tight-lipped and gently chastised, Ace returned to sanitizing Gavin’s arm, ignoring how blood pooled at the bottom of his cheeks, further still to his chest.

“What are you teaching this time?” Gavin asked to fill the dead space, the machine’s hum could only keep him company for so long.

“I’m not,” Ace answered to the other’s surprise, “I’m attending an acquaintance’s lecture—showing support for that ‘boring math stuff.’”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“You’ve already implied I’m quite stubborn, so,” Ace replied with a slight twitch of his mouth.

“You said it,” Gavin teased, holding pressure to the bandage Ace pressed into his arm, “is this gonna be nearby, or are you making a meal out of these blood-bags?”

“It’ll be at the university, I should be back before nightfall,” the vampire reassured, packing away his tools, “and given Chloe’s thorough investigative nature, so should you.” Ace looked up, his sensitive ears picking up the crunching of wheels against the cobblestone. “That should be her.”

Gavin followed Ace’s line of sight, feeling an odd sense of urgency. It settled in his cells, hiking each nervous tic to an eleven. “Kicking me out already?” The joke fell flat, its insinuation an uncomfortable reminder.

Ace busied his hands with the bagged blood, watching as it sloshed in its airtight seal. It took more time than he’d like to admit to look up and meet Gavin’s questioning gaze, his worry creasing his brows, creating wrinkles in his forehead. “I’m not opposed to you staying,” he murmured, throat tight.

“But?” Because there was always a but.

“Some space might be beneficial, at least until…”

“At least until you get over your little crush,” Gavin filled in, incredulity twisting his grimace to a sneer, “I’ll see myself out.” He stood with a huff, making it halfway down the hall before Ace’s instincts kicked in and—in a vulnerable moment—cornered him. Gavin pulled out of his grip, but his fight-or-flight instinct had disappeared eons ago.

“If we can’t live as mutuals, then it does us no good,” Ace reminded, trying to emphasize the importance of equality in their relationship. Considering how often there was an imbalance of power, it wasn’t such a tall order to at least ask.

“We’re different species, for crying out loud!” Gavin held his head, inhaling the stuffy air to calm his burning lungs. Before more of his frustration made itself present, the front door’s lock began to turn, light flooding through the crack.

“Morning you guys,” Chloe greeted, donning high-waisted plaid slacks and a black overcoat, her hair hanging loosely over the lapels. Her cheeks were wind-kissed, complimenting her red lipstick.

It wasn’t often she dressed down.

“Morning,” Gavin grumbled, dragging his feet towards the foyer, picking up his favourite jacket, and stuffing his feet into his boots, pushing past Chloe, heated steps taking him towards her car. The sun, though bright, did nothing to fight the mid-October chill, forcing a violent shiver down his spine.

Chloe narrowed her eyes, switching her gaze from the car to her son, crossing her arms when he refused to look at her. “What did you do?”

“Why do you assume this is my fault?” Ace snapped, his face growing warm.

“Is it his fault?” Chloe returned, motioning to the SUV.

“Partly.”

Chloe sighed, taking a few cautious steps towards her son. She placed a hand on his cheek, rubbing away the worst of his blush. “Haven’t seen you this flustered since, well.” Chloe’s smile grew both in fondness and mirth, letting the unspoken inspection hang like a sword over their heads.

“Chloe,” Ace warned, pulling out of her teasing comforts, “I believe you have apartments to go tour.”

She looked at him for a moment, worming her hands inside her pockets, and returning to the threshold, “We’ll talk later,” she promised, a placeholder on their conversation.

Ace let go of a long breath, his heart having the strength to calm after close encounters with his emotions. No amount of stoicism could save him from Chloe’s unfair shrewdness, from her mind ticking boxes and drawing lines he very well may have created in the first place. He returned to the common room, salvaging the blood before it spoiled. Not even trying to hide his eagerness, he dug into the plastic, lamenting its stiff and cold nature, how its chemical smell obscured the flavourful undertones of his drudge’s essence.

Before Gavin became a constant in his life, blood never held much meaning to him. It was a means to an end, an unfortunate consequence of being alive. If he could do without it, he would.

He wondered if other humans felt the same, constantly eating as they were. Before cooking became a staple in his life, the smell of human food never held much meaning to him. Ace remembered learning to cook with Chloe, how her hands—caked with flour—never once faltered whilst kneading the dough. He remembered how the yeast held such an odd yet warm aroma, which filled the house with an earthy scent of baking bread. But it was just food at the time, nothing more than means to replenish the ever-depleting reserves of his mother figure’s energy.

Now, he knew exactly how the eggs in the pan should taste, how the olive oil and spices coated each bell-pepper and corn and mushroom, and a myriad of other vegetables to blend favourably in the omelette. He never tasted his own dishes first-hand, and yet he knew the delicate intricacies of each molecule, through some form of osmosis—he was sure. It drove him to perfect the many recipes in his repertoire, to learn an infinite more, just to taste how they flavoured his drudge.

They were truly feeding each other.

Ace pulled himself from the empty bag, his knuckles white and shaking with his grip. Heaviness crept into his limbs, compelling him towards the couch, his eyelids to close, his breaths to deepen and space out.

Drunkenness had never occurred to him in the past, he’d never suffered quite as acutely as he did now the debilitating effects of a good meal. He chastised Gavin for forgetting his weakness not realizing his mounting hypocrisy.

* * *

“Gavin?”

The man in question was looking through the large living room window to the traffic below, the horizon stretching until it was just a flat line, thin, imperceptible—hard to believe it stretched further. Yet his eyes, as dumb to the finite nature of physics as they were, tried in vain to find the trees, the road, the mansion. They weren’t too far from his old apartment, closer still to Chloe’s, now that his income was of a more substantial nature. It was in the middle of downtown, all amenities within walking distance, this one even had a garage for his car. And still…

“Do you think these windows have UV repellant?” he asked, pressing into the crystal-clear glass. It grew warmer, his fingers absorbing the cold—the heat transfer familiar.

“We can check,” Chloe said, her heels echoing in the empty space. She pulled out her UV reader, waving it across the glass, making a face. “They’re not.”

“You think they’d let me modify them?” Gavin asked, turning his eyes to Chloe, who looked at him, puzzled by his question.

“Planning on housing any vampires?” she joked, putting away the device.

“Well, if you and North come over,” Gavin sputtered, his cheeks already purple.

“We’d come at night,” Chloe reminded, looking at the large studio apartment, barren except for the kitchen appliances. It was clean, shiny, and a bit too bright—perfect for a bachelor. Though only the second apartment in their search, it had everything Gavin would ever need until he bought a house—well, _almost_ everything. “If that’s a feature you anticipate needing, I could always add that to our search.”

“I was just…”

“Being considerate?” Chloe finished, much to his relief.

“Yes,” he agreed with a quick nod, “but this is also perfect, don’t get me wrong—it’s better than what I had, anyway.”

“You don’t have to make a decision today,” Chloe said, patting his shoulder, “unless there’s a reason you’d want to?”

Gavin snorted, peeling himself away from the window. “You’re too good at that, you know?”

“Too good at what?” Chloe asked, playing dumb.

“Knowing what I’m thinking,” Gavin said, his shoulders slumping, his features failing to remain a pleasant neutral, “is it me?” he asked the woodgrain, “am I just not his type?”

“Ah,” Chloe sighed in surprise, “so I was correct.”

Gavin chuckled a strained and pained thing. “You should play the lottery.” He leaned against a pillar, sliding down until he was on the floor, his head pressed into it. “I hate this feeling of rejection,” he spat out, twisting a hand in his chest, “like I’m not good enough.” Closing his eyes to keep the tears at bay, he continued, unable to quell the desire. “I don’t know if it’s me or this damned drudgery.”

Chloe sat beside him, bumping shoulders so he’d open his eyes and look at her. “It’s a little bit of both,” she said, knowing it wasn’t the definitive answer he wanted, but the truth, nonetheless. “There are so many hormones that pass between a drudge and their vampire, and if there’s a predisposition for attraction, it’s not hard to make the leap,” she continued, her face apologetic. “It’s the reason both of you must be of mature age—children can’t be drudges, and vampiric children can’t make drudges. Not unless they’re turned, but that’s another story,” Chloe said, dismissing the more intricate details of vampirism.

“I just wish—I just wanna know if you took my drudgery away, if I’d still feel the same?” Gavin said, frustration stitched in every syllable.

“And how do you feel?” Chloe asked, free of judgement.

Gavin looked away, his blush spreading towards his chest, to his bite marks, embarrassment turning his stomach into a hornet’s nest. “Don’t tell him I told you any of this,” he warned, waiting for her to seal her lips and throw away the key, “I kinda told him I didn’t mind if things got physical between us.”

“And they haven’t already?” Chloe teased, pinching Gavin’s thigh.

“You know what I mean,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Yes,” she agreed, “I do.” Chloe gave them a moment of silence, letting the admission settle before she asked, “How did he take it?”

“I think he thought I was joking,” Gavin scoffed, “and then he asked for space, so.”

“It seems like he also wants to know if his feelings are genuine or just, well,” Chloe motioned to nothing, knowing she didn’t have to spell it out for the drudge.

“But what’s space gonna do when we see each other every day?” Gavin grumbled, “I just wish he’d say he doesn’t like me, save me the trouble, even if he has to lie.”

“You don’t want that either, Gavin,” Chloe said, serious, “remember how bad it was when we both had to lie to him, when you thought you’d never see him again?”

“Beats false hope.”

Chloe felt for him, tucking a random strand of hair behind his ear. “ _Désolé_ Gavin, I can’t fix that part of him, and at this point, I think he’s too afraid to try,” Chloe said, “I would oblige his request—if space is what he wants, then space is what he needs. He’ll either grow fonder in your absence, or you’ll both learn the difference between your emotions and your hormones.”

“So, I guess we’ll keep looking,” Gavin sighed, getting up from the cold hardwood.

* * *

“What makes us human?” the presenter asked, pausing for emphasis, “or vampires, or both?” He clicked next on his presentation, two diverging evolutionary pathways linking them to a common ancestor. “Change is only brought about by a need. If we didn’t _need_ to consume, we would not eat, if we didn’t _need_ to die, we would not live.

“Take away our motivations, our drives, our wants, desires, and we’d be nothing more than warmish bodies traipsing across the globe as a collective empty shell.” The presenter locked eyes with Ace, his smile imperceptible, secret. “Then, what forces us to innovate?” he continued asking his rhetorical question, “some would say things aren’t good enough, they’re not fast enough, or strong enough, or even small enough.” The audience was enraptured, following Dr. Kamski’s movements as if hypnotized.

“How far can we push ourselves until we’ve met our limit? Can we ever truly meet our limits?” He flipped to the next slide, a simple line of code spitting out a ‘Hello World.’

“Most of us began coding at an early age, and the first thing we all learned to do was tell a machine how to greet us—we taught an empty shell manners.” That got a few chuckles. “But we didn’t stop there, we pushed it until we taught it to run our homes, our phones, our computers, our life-support, our banks, even our dating apps.”

The crowd laughed in earnest then, a few of them clapping. Elijah waited for them to calm down before clicking to the next slide. “Yet it’s not enough, we want more, we want these machines to breathe, and think, and feel, and act, and do. We’re asking shells to be motivated— to have intrinsic motivation, which organically is impossible for them. They’re not born dissatisfied, they don’t ask themselves to evolve, it is us who force them forward.

“Some would call it cruel to give a thoughtless being the ability to think—we’d be playing god then, when we are still so imperfect.” Elijah stared at his slide, his theoretical analysis on consciousness staring back at him. “Maybe we should’ve stopped at hello.”

The room was silent, even Ace held his breath.

“Not unlike our machines, we have our own divine interventions,” he continued, letting the tension in the room settle, “when our crowds grow a bit too thick, nature delivers us a plague to remind us of our fragile existence. Mutations force us to change, whether we want to or not.” Elijah clicked to his next slide, returning to their common ancestor, and adding a third line for hybrids.

“As hybrids, we fit neither with humans nor vampires,” he said matter of fact, “the _slight_ compatibility of human and vampiric DNA made us viable, but not desirable. To vampires, we’ve simply muddied their lineage, to humans, we’re too vampiric. Unable to make drudges, we live on the raw edge of hunger, never fully satisfied, forced to change. Hungry, always hungry.”

Elijah clicked on the next slide, pulling up notable historic hybrids. “Forced to adapt, we’ve created some brilliant inventions.” He circled a few, pointing at them with a laser, “Henry M. Thoreau—the first hybrid to create sustainable dietary supplements from both human and animal blood.” _Click_. “Emilia S. Ruth, the first female hybrid to prove vampires born from hybrid parents did _not_ create further hybrids.” _Click._ “This one’s quite recent, and though not a hybrid, does provide some hope for us drudge-less halflings.”

Ace’s eyes widened a fraction, Markus’ face not one he expected in the presentation.

“Dr. Markus Manfred, first to discover hybrids could theoretically make drudges out of hypersensitive humans,” Elijah said, his eyes cutting through the crowd to meet Ace’s once more. Almost like he knew.

“I do apologize if this lecture is not entirely about robotics,” Elijah said, changing gears, “but a machine can only go so far without input—without us. As long as we live, they live, and if we’re only creating artificial life to mimic ours, then there’s no point to it in the first place.”

The rest of his presentation returned to mathematics—his rhetorical questions postponed for another day. Ace, however, wanted to return to the what-ifs, to their ancestral unity and ultimate divide. He twitched in his seat, waiting for the lecture to be over for the crowd to ask their questions and to thin, to leave, so that he may have a chance to reconcile his aborted attempts at understanding.

Elijah had his back to him, packing away the few papers he’d pulled to pass around the large auditorium. He paused when he sensed Ace approach but didn’t turn around, not until he was done.

“You actually came,” Elijah said, the easy countenance with which he’d spoken earlier absent in their solitude. “Figured we’d never see each other again, considering last time.”

“I would like to apologize, if I may,” Ace said, humbling himself.

“You may,” Elijah replied, “but there’s no guarantee I’ll accept it.”

“Of course,” Ace said, looking around the auditorium, “I must compliment your preface, philosophy is often frowned upon by the scientific.”

“And yet they’re so uniquely intertwined— _cogito, ergo sum_.”

“I think, therefore I am,” Ace nodded, “I sometimes wish I didn’t have to think so hard to be.” He’d whispered it, his eyes landing on the desk between them, on Elijah’s hands clutching his suitcase, on anything but his eyes.

“Ignorance is bliss,” the hybrid agreed, “the mind of a simpleton is often a happier one.”

“I fear I must agree,” Ace breathed, his throat tight and impassable, drowning him with his own ineptitude.

Elijah rounded the desk, working hard to catch the vampire’s shifty eyes. “When you learn something about yourself that you find undesirable, it bitters your scent,” he said, his gaze unreadable, “and you, my friend, smell quite bitter.”

“At least you still consider us friends,” Ace huffed.

“Acquaintances at best,” Elijah murmured, standing a bit closer, sharing their personal space. Ace, though tense, didn’t pull away, which was renewed encouragement if Elijah had ever seen it. “I wonder what it is you’ve learned,” he purred, pressing a finger into the vampire’s tie, letting it fall to the first button of his vest. “Care to share?”

Ace shook his head, pulling away at last, his heart on his tongue.

“This isn’t about your drudge again, is it?” Elijah asked, venom dripping from his small fangs.

“Don’t bring him into this,” Ace begged, grinding his teeth, “I’m trying, I just—I’ve never…”

“You’re kidding,” Elijah scoffed, running a hand through his hair, “handsome devil like you?” Ace flushed further, still not used to being complimented. “Well, I suppose with the emotional unavailability and all,” Elijah continued, talking to himself. Ace looked at him, almost as if he wanted to argue, but couldn’t.

The hybrid took a moment to think, to reorganize what he knew about the vampire, and tread accordingly. “Walk with me?” he asked, motioning to the exit. Ace tried to be discreet looking at the time, but Elijah’s eyes followed him, narrowing to slits. “If you’ve got somewhere to be, just say it.”

It was in that quiet anger that Ace could taste Elijah’s frustration, quite familiar in tone and texture, almost as if he were holding a facsimile. Maybe everyone’s frustration tasted the same, hot, and acrid.

“I’ve got time,” Ace confessed, pushing the sunset out of his mind.

The hybrid said nothing, making the mistake of hitching his emotions on the unpredictable. He walked through one of the side doors—Ace his silent shadow—their meandering leading them towards the older library. It was empty, save for the few cramming souls in the far corners, the smell of leather and weathered pages overwhelming and comforting—an academic’s idea of a dream.

Elijah took the stairs to the second level, running his fingers through the ancient hardbacks. “You wrote some of these,” he said, pointing at a few, “how does it feel to be that accomplished?”

“I’m sure I’m not the only one sitting in this library,” Ace replied, picking a book at random, “we’re both accomplished in our own right.”

Elijah paused—his expression impenetrable. Closed. “Did I ever tell you how I came about learning of you?” he asked, continuing after the soft shake of Ace’s head, “it was during one of my engineering courses in high school, I saw your diagram for your first engine—The Frederic.” Elijah looked at the older vampire, often forgetting centuries separated them. “I thought it was an odd name for a machine. Where most others have marks and numbers dictating how many marks, you’d named it after your horse.”

“I, again, applaud you for doing your homework,” Ace said, rolling his shoulders, “it’s not often people know that much about me.”

“You like your work to speak for you,” Elijah said, pointing again at the volumes of books with Ace’s name on them, “I almost failed a class because I wouldn’t read anyone else’s works on theoretical analysis.”

“I’m flattered,” Ace said, pink tinging his cheeks, “but I’m only a fraction of what my professors taught me.”

“Allow me to disagree,” Elijah said, taking a deep breath, “I always wished you were still teaching when I went to school,” he lamented, moving on, “or maybe not—it’d probably be hard to focus.”

Ace, stunned into silence, jumped when his phone rumbled in his pocket. It was just a notification, but it was enough to jostle him out of the abashed fog he’d stumbled into. He excused himself for a moment, fishing the device out of his pocket, reading Gavin’s message with furrowed brows.

_Where are you?_

Hadn’t he—

“Drudges seem like more work than they’re worth,” Elijah said from beside him, his eyes flitting over the screen before Ace shielded it against his chest, “such an evolutionary handicap.”

“How did you—”

“Your scent changed,” Elijah interrupted, the air turning sour with his annoyance, “grossly obvious.”

Ace’s face burned, blind to his own involuntary nature. He typed out a short reply and pocketed his phone again, an apology at the edge of his tongue. “You’re the first person I’ve met who does not romanticize drudgery,” Ace said instead.

“It’s unnecessary,” Elijah said, passion simmering in his hushed tone, “a pet with the ability to speak,” he continued, making himself chuckle.

Ace didn’t share in the mirth but did agree, to an extent. “I would think as a hybrid you’d resent the fact you can’t have one,” he said, with no meanness to it.

“That is where you’re wrong, my friend,” Elijah said, locking their arms and leading them across the floor, to the large bay windows hidden from view. Several board games sat in various stages of play on the tables, but the one they both seemed drawn to was the barely touched chess set. Elijah sat on the ivory side, letting Ace decide to join him by the ebony. He reset the board after the vampire humoured him, making the first move. “Being a hybrid gives me the autonomy and flexibility to choose. I’m tied down to no one, I’ve got a responsibility to no one. I can be as free or captured as I want.” The vampire, distracted as he was by the enviable freedom, misplaced his rook, giving Elijah a head-start on his advancement. “Speaking of which.”

Ace shook his head, focusing on the game at hand, or trying at least. “I wasn’t keen on drudgery,” he admitted, careful with his remaining pieces, “still am not—like you, I could never create one.”

“Really?” Elijah said, his brows brushing his hairline, “I figured a Richardson would have little to no trouble with that.”

“I see my lineage has not escaped your search,” the vampire grumbled, taking Elijah’s knight.

“I’m nothing if not thorough,” he replied, sacrificing a pawn, “but this is news to me.”

Ace cleared his throat, pausing the game to think. “I’m unsure if revealing my disability will shatter whatever admiration you have for me.” It shouldn’t have mattered, it never had in the past. But Elijah was an intellectual equal and—by no fault of his own—a rival. Admitting a weakness like his might give the other an unfair advantage—whether conscious or not.

“We’re not without our faults,” Elijah reassured, meeting Ace’s troubled stare.

Ace nodded, pushing a random piece forward. “My drudge, he’s… I…” Ace took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead. He’d promised this wouldn’t be about Gavin, and yet. “He’s hypersensitive,” he admitted, moving his bishop back, “it was by accident that he ever came to be what he is.”

“And I’m sure he loves you for it,” Elijah derided, taking Ace’s last knight.

The vampire clenched his jaw, both from the mounting frustration of nearly losing the game, and the leftover resentment clinging to his desire to move on. “If we could change our fate, we would,” Ace groused, bullying a few of Elijah’s pieces off the board.

“What would you do without him now, I wonder,” Elijah said, scratching his chin, “it’s not like you could survive without his blood for very long.”

“I’ve made do for centuries—I’m sure you can relate,” Ace said, cornering Elijah’s king, just as his queen did the same to his. “It’s a draw,” he concluded, holding out a hand as a sign of sportsmanship.

Elijah took it, giving it a slow shake, “What a terrible fortune you’ve found yourself with,” he agreed, his apologetic smile a touch too playful. “I wish I could help.”

Ace didn’t let go of the hand despite their camaraderie having finished, instead, he let it fall to the table, gripping it almost to the point of discomfort. “Maybe there’s a way—”

Not for the first time that night did his phone interrupt their proceedings, but instead of a notification, it continued it buzzing ad nauseam, compelling Ace to break the atmosphere once more. He considered ignoring it until paranoia and hard-learned rules talked him out of it.

“Pardon me, again,” Ace apologized, to which Elijah held his hands palm up and let them rest on the wood. The vampire stood and turned, answering the phone with a restrained sigh. “Yes, Gavin?” Ace didn’t see—and perhaps it was for the best—the slight, nearly imperceptible, cruel twitch to Elijah’s lips at the name, the flare of his nostrils, confirmation an awful curse. The vampire did smell the displeasure though, again thinking to apologize in earnest for his rudeness.

“It’s a little after sunset, don’t you think?” Gavin said, his irritation unmistakeable.

“I’m sorry if my being gone inconveniences you, but I will be running behind the remainder of the night, now, if you would please stop interrupting—”

“Interrupting? You promised to be home by now,” Gavin accused, “and I feel like an idiot waiting by this door for you to walk through it.”

The admission gave Ace pause, his brows knitting together, far too conscientious of the audience behind him. “What exactly do you need me there for?” he murmured into the receiver, his heart twisting into a knot.

“I—I don’t, I just, we never—” Gavin cut himself off, “I had to cook my own dinner tonight and it wasn’t that good,” he mumbled, face flushed with overabundant blood.

“Weren’t you with Chloe?” Ace said, shaking his head despite his fond annoyance.

“Chloe couldn’t stay for very long, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you why,” Gavin said, upset once again.

“You are a pet,” Ace mused aloud, rubbing the top of his eyelids.

“We feed each other, remember?” Gavin said, choosing not to take offence to the comparison, “if I die, you die.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine without me for a night, Gavin,” Ace reassured, getting ready to say his goodbyes.

“What, you find a date or something?” Gavin mocked with a snort, “he turn you on talking about calculators?”

“Goodnight, Gavin,” Ace said, nearly pressing the button.

“Ace, please, don’t,” the drudge rushed to say, his demeanour doing a one-eighty to plaintive and submissive, the change so drastic Ace feared it might be another trap. “I thought about what you said earlier, about space, and… you’re right.”

The vampire did a mental double-take, conflicting emotions flitting about his quaking heart. “What was that?”

“I said you’re right,” Gavin grumbled through clenched teeth, “I spoke to Chloe and you’re right. We found a place, so, in a few days I’ll be out of your hair and we can go back to our feeding schedule.”

A high-pitched ringing began in Ace’s ears, his field of view closing in around him. He’d dug his own grave with his mouth again, hadn’t he? What was he meant to say now, ‘thank you, Gavin, for placating my whims’?

“I didn’t think you’d find something today,” Ace said instead, his heart climbing up his neck.

“I didn’t either,” Gavin said. In all honesty, he was just tired of looking and picked the one with his most specific amenities. If it was a little closer to the mansion than the others, Chloe didn’t say anything about it. “But you know, we need our space,” he continued, forcibly polite, “enjoy your date.”

“Gavin—”

 _Click_.

“That’s quite the character you’ve got for a companion,” Elijah tutted, having stood halfway through Ace’s conversation, and brought himself to the vampire’s side.

“He’s not…” Ace clutched his phone, the screen cracking under the pressure, “we’re not together in any way other than alimentally.”

“I gathered,” Elijah said, his snort and sarcastic lilt not at all boding well for Ace’s argument. “And I’m sure that spike in testosterone is purely evolutionary,” the hybrid mocked, his senses acute enough to detect the subtle shifts in Ace the moment his drudge’s name left his lips.

“Elijah, I would like to know you better,” Ace said, nearly supplicating with the man. It was his own way of admitting he’d be willing to take this further, to explore this budding attraction, to prove he could.

“But you can’t,” Elijah reminded, the same strained tug of the lips he’d given him that fateful night, the same night where Gavin had to go and muddle things. “It’s that handicap of yours, until you’re rid of it, you’ll never be free to choose.”

Ace wasn’t so sure they were talking about drudgery anymore. Most of his knowledge of these things came second-hand. His parents had their own set of drudges, his mother a rare breed of cruel, often discarding a drudge if she no longer cared for their taste. She’d never had a problem with his father, their marital bond as strong as one’d expect.

Connor and North had made drudges out of their partners only _after_ falling in love with them, and anyone else who spoke about their drudges in polite conversation never seemed to be quite as affected as he was. It seems his unique situation lent itself to a lifetime of misunderstandings.

“I want to choose,” Ace said, feeling insignificant under the universe’s will, “I need help to choose.”

“You remind me of my father,” Elijah said, scratching his chin, “he too needed a little push in the right direction.” The hybrid stepped closer, inserting himself in Ace’s personal space without touching him. They were nearly the same height, Ace taller by a few inches. Though, in the here and now, with Elijah pushing ever closer, Ace felt minuscule.

“What?” Elijah teased, smelling like some form of foreign spice, unique in a way that took the vampire by surprise. “The way you’re acting, it’s almost like you’ve never been kissed before.” He pulled away a fraction, leaving enough breathing room for air to pass between them.

And just as it’d appeared, Elijah’s new scent disappeared, saturating Ace’s nostrils with that misplaced familiarity he could only ever attribute to Gavin. It didn’t help he’d nearly quoted his drudge, that matched shock quasi-identical. If it weren’t for his anxious predicament, he might’ve been able to add it up.

“I—”

“Shh,” Elijah urged, putting a finger to Ace’s lips, “you’ll talk yourself out of it,” he whispered, caressing Ace’s jaw, his thumb pushing into the corner of his mouth, feeling his breath ghost over his flesh. “I’ve never let anyone bite me,” he said, his heart rate spiking at the sight of Ace’s fangs, his own aching in his gums, “I’d let you be the first.” He’d whispered it, disbelief making him quiet.

“I can’t,” Ace replied, though the desire did burn its insistence all the way to the bottom of his gut. This close, Elijah’s scent held more hybrid undertones, the ones that dulled his blood to that of nearly unappetizing levels, yet the human side of him—the one offering—called to him like a dog-whistle.

“Can’t?” Elijah asked, pressing into one of the fangs, their sharp precision cutting into him quick, yet he didn’t bleed—couldn’t—without some encouragement. “Or won’t?”

“Both, Elijah, you must know why,” Ace said, moving out of the hybrid’s touch, out of their personal bubble, dusting off himself and his anxiety.

“Do you want my help or not?” Elijah snapped, nearly at shouting level considering their surroundings.

“I want to know for certain what it is that I feel, for you—for Gavin,” Ace replied, desperate for an out, his fledgeling emotions escaping him and his stoicism, “and I can’t do that under duress.”

“At the rate you’re going—you’re lucky time is on your side,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples, “how long are you willing to take to figure this out?”

 _As long as it takes_ , didn’t seem like what Elijah wanted to hear, so Ace kept it to himself, leaning against the bookshelves for support. The minutes stretched their taut silence into hours, neither wanting to budge from their place of stubbornness. But time made them slaves to compromise, and eventually, Elijah was the first to move, pulling out a pen and pad, writing something on it before returning to an amicable distance. He pulled open one side of Ace’s blazer, sticking the paper in the secret pocket.

“Just in case you figure it out,” Elijah said, patting it down before leaving for good.

Ace let go of his breath, of the tension in his nerves. Every ounce of him itched to understand why he hesitated, why he never followed through. He wasn’t like this with anything else, he’d made a point to always be decisive with his work. Why was this any different?

His trek back to his car was a long one, the campus a ghost town at night. He barely felt the frost of the mid-October wind, preoccupied as he was with getting home, with settling the annoyed reprimand coursing through his blood. Rounding into the mansion, he looked at each window, wondering why the darkness bothered him, why it felt as if no one was home.

Ace parked his car, surveying all his earthly possessions and finding them to mean nothing in the end. He could live without them, survive each passing day as if they’ve never existed. But the being inside, the living, breathing entity residing in his home was unique in that a part of him belonged to Ace, and yet, without him, he would die.

It may seem co-dependent, at least Gavin seemed to think so, but just the idea of his drudge leaving (despite Ace having made it clear that it’d be best if he did) had his nerves flayed open. Hopefully, there was something he could do, or say, that wouldn’t incriminate his emotions but would allow Gavin to stay—even if just for a little while.

His door creaked as he opened it, echoing down the hall like an ethereal wail. He hung up his blazer and keys, locking the door behind him. Thinking twice about calling out for his drudge, he decided to follow their tether instead, tapping into the seldom-used bond. It took him upstairs to Gavin’s room, the door ajar enough for him to peek inside.

As expected, his drudge was curled into a ball under the covers, his soft snores matching Thunder’s rumbling purr. Ace looked further into the room, the lump in his throat growing as he noted the pre-packed bags, already labelled for the movers. Compelled by a force stronger than him, he stepped inside, inching closer to his drudge until he was just by his bedside, intruding on his privacy, on his sleep.

Ace shook his head, looking around again, his eyes catching on the half-full glass of water, on his charging phone, on the down-turned picture frame beneath it. He wondered how long Gavin sat by the phone after they’d hung up, how long he’d been waiting before he called.

His hands hovered over the rectangle, the battery’s warmth radiating towards his fingers. Gavin’s shuffling forced him to stop, to keep still like death whilst he turned to the opposite side, resuming his snores moments later. Only then did Ace move again, his curiosity getting the better of him when he picked up the picture frame, pushing the phone to the side.

How odd to have it present but out of sight, as if spite and remorse could coexist.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the picture, his gaze snapping to his drudge. Younger Gavin’s cheesy grin brought a small smile to his own face. Ace couldn’t remember the last time—if ever—that he’d seen his drudge that happy. He looked around the photo, recognizing Carolina, and squinting at the gentleman painting frosting on her nose. That must be Gavin’s father, he concluded, the hybrid.

Ace stared for a moment longer, cataloguing his features, the blue eyes, the brown hair, his jawline, comparing them to Gavin, stuttering on his own thoughts when they made the leap to Elijah. He looked closer, then back to his sleeping drudge, then to his eidetic memory, round and round until the thought he’d be sick from the spinning.

He returned the picture-frame how he found it, backtracking out of his room, and nearly bolting down the stairs and into his study, booting up his computer, holding disbelief at bay until he could be _certain_.

His first search was that of Elijah, knowing mostly his scholastic contributions and works would populate the first results. He dug a little deeper, finding a biographical source listing the name of his parents.

Father: _Anthony S. Kamski._

Ace pulled out one of the keys from his drawers, opening the locked compartment where he kept some of his important documents. He’d been incredulous at first when Chloe said to keep a copy of his drudge certificate, adamant that one was enough.

Was he glad she didn’t listen.

Ace read through the scrawling script of his own birth certificate, flipping through the pages until he reached Gavin’s, stopping in his tracks, the large puzzle piece clicking in place with a loud snap.

Father: _Anthony S. Kamski_.

The papers fell out of Ace’s loosened grip, his breath paused for the moment. _How_ —how had he gone this long without realizing? They smelled the same!

 _That’s_ why they smelled the same, they shared a father. They were brothers.

Elijah was Gavin’s brother…the same brother who’d pushed him out of a tree, who’d broken not only his arm but his parents’ marriage, who used his father’s cologne.

And Ace had nearly kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the truth comes out. There were a few ways this chapter almost ended. I literally made a pro-con column on if they should've kissed or not. And the no-kiss won, but just fucking barely. So yes, I'm sure some of you are happy about that. 
> 
> Elijah is that part of the story that the other one was missing. There was no driving force for the other story, we were just waiting for Gavin to get better [aka, get his libido back] then they'd DO IT and that'd be the end. With this...I'm NOT GONNA SAY what happens, but, yeah. It's not the last time we'll see Elijah. 
> 
> Also, yes I know those two together are pretentious as hell--that's kinda the point, lol


End file.
